Bare
by stella luna sky
Summary: Winner of two Summer 2009 Indies. A beautifully plain girl writes the colors used to unravel a young prodigy of the brushstroke. What color are the eyes that see through the heart? Forest green and their rooted brown. AH/M. COMPLETE.
1. Introduction: Musings of the Insecure

**Musings of the Insecure**

_I am not beautiful,_ she wrote. Her script was a mixture of cursive and print, the lovely handwriting already a contradiction of her words_. I am my mother's keeper, my daddy's little girl, and I thank them for my name, but I do not live up to it._

The notebook slammed shut suddenly, because she felt eyes where they didn't belong, ghosting her words with each loop and scratch.

"There is Camus in your back pocket, and a Biology textbook on your desk," she hissed at the boy next to her. "Surely, they are more interesting than the musings of an insecure girl."

"Sorry," he whispered back, and she could almost feel the heat of his shame in being caught.

She was flustered too; she hated confrontation, and she had spit fire at someone she hadn't spoken to in months. All he had done for the past six weeks was ignore her, shoot various looks of loathing and smoke in her direction, and then retreat back into his own space – in the lunchroom, across the parking lot, in Biology. She could feel herself shaking, so she raised her hand and asked for a bathroom pass.

Once she was there, she splashed water on her face, catching the reflection she had proclaimed minutes earlier as not beautiful. She was all dark browns, eyes and hair and eyebrows and tiny freckles on her neck, against skin the shade of an elephant's tusk. The heat of her hometown, Phoenix, had done nothing to put peaches underneath her skin; if anything, it made her more white, the antithesis sunburn.

She had no makeup on her skin for the water to mess up, so she scrubbed her face with a rough brown paper towel, the only hue on her face a bright red dash across her cheeks and forehead. She was flustered, and this made her color, two rose petals pushing against her sinuses and through her cheekbones. She was almost pretty then, she thought, but still not beautiful, still not _Bella._

But she was a Bella, a non-beautiful Bella, and that almost made her happy – she was a walking contradiction, and maybe someone, somewhere, would find that interesting.

When she made her way back to the Biology classroom, smelling of old crinkled brown paper and perfumed sweat, she slid back into her seat.

"Are you all right?" asked the voice next to her ear, his breath all boy and marijuana and the apple she had watched him eat for lunch.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper," she said quietly, though she wasn't sorry.

"I'm sorry I read your insecure musings," he said, sounding like a smile, but she didn't look up at him.

"You are not," she accused, folding her arms over her chest and resting them against the cool black top of the desk.

"You aren't, either," he replied, and she grinned despite her tension.

"We can't be friends," she told him, reminding him of his words from weeks ago, when he had snarled at her for thanking him for saving her life from harsh metal and slick asphalt.

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, licked his lips, and then settled on a wry smile. "I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella."

Bella looked at the boy, who was beautiful with only one glance and devastating with a lingering stare. His unlined face told of youth, but his eyes – with the antifreeze color and the gold ring around the black pupil, reminding her of a sunflower – told her of hidden wisdom, of secrets she would never learn.

"I'm not chasing you, Edward," she whispered.

He laughed, a clear noise, and it made Mr. Banner look up sharply.

"You couldn't catch me, Bella."

Mr. Banner was about to respond, but the bell tolled. Edward stood slowly, and she watched the lines of his strange copper-color hair, the hue of shiny new pennies straight from the bank. Even in fluorescent lighting, he was unattainable.

"Have a nice weekend, Bella."

Bella nodded at her desk, collecting her books and shoving them into her blue backpack. She felt him go by her, the heat from his body keeping her breath held in her lungs. Then he was gone, and she relaxed and picked up her Moleskine.

She didn't open her notebook again until late that night, ready to pour out the strange day in ink. She was full; Charlie had brought home some good steaks from the local butcher, and it was dry enough to grill, so he manned the outdoors while she made a salad and a pasta side. Now it was rainy, the good kind of rainy, where it made sleep comfortable and quick, and she was almost ready to succumb.

When she flipped it open to the page she had left off on, a very different script met her eyes. Under her rant of beauty lacking, were three words in a neat, elegant print:

_You are beautiful._

And, just for a moment, she believed it.


	2. They're Not Listening, Anyway

**They're Not Listening Anyway**

_**Seven weeks earlier**_

Bella Swan's name was not a lost irony on her. The first book her mother bought her was _The Ugly Duckling,_ and it was still in her possession, a dusty old thing; she traced the gold lettering as she placed it on her bookshelf in her new bedroom.

Well, her new-old bedroom. The bedroom of her youth was now the bedroom of her upper adolescence, being seventeen-almost-eighteen, thank you very much. She picked up a few more paperbacks, girly stories by Sarah Dessen and mysteries by Ian Fleming and classics by Dickens and Austen. Her iPod brought her the sounds of Charlotte Church – she was a strange girl, she knew she was.

Satisfied, she turned to her bed, the purple down comforter Charlie, her father, had shoved in her direction earlier that evening waiting to be put in place. She almost got to it before the tears came, but she couldn't help it, opera always made her feel melancholy, and she missed her mother, and wanted her cactus plant that she wasn't allowed to take on the plane.

Sniffling pathetically, she chided herself. She needed fresh air, and Forks, Washington had plenty of it. She padded downstairs in her long, comfy tie-dyed socks (a survivor of the seventies, straight from her mother's hippie days) and was almost to the porch door when she saw Charlie standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking uncomfortable.

"Dad?" she questioned, wondering why he was staring at a jar of Alfredo, a box of penne noodles, and raw chicken breast like it was about to implode.

"Bella!" he said, startled. She must have really spooked him, or embarrassed him, because even a small town cop wouldn't start so easily. "Uh, hi honey. Hungry?"

No, she thought. "Sure," she said. "What's for dinner?"

He shuffled uncomfortably, and suddenly, Bella understood. Charlie was used to fending for himself – she shuddered to think how many pizzas he had eaten – and was trying to make her a homecoming meal. Feeling a wave of affection, she smiled.

"How does some chicken Alfredo sound?" she asked him. "I was just about to run out for some fresh air, but I'll come back in and cook in a second..." She put her hand to the knob just as she heard a honk outside.

Charlie grinned at her under his mustache. "Dinner sounds great, Bella. Let's go outside. There's a little surprise waiting for you out there."

Smiling curiously at her handsome father, she opened the door and stood out on the porch, squinting into the twilight and light drizzle.

"Hello there!" a gruff voice called, intertwined with a light accent, all ancient forest and oak.

Bella smiled shyly in response and looked over her shoulder at her dad. "Who's that?"

"Billy Black!" Charlie called, both an answer and a greeting. "If you were any slower, you'd be moving backwards, old man."

"Don't patronize me, Chief. I wouldn't want to have to embarrass you in front of your beautiful daughter, here."

Bella flushed; she hated when her parents' friends, or any adult, called her beautiful. It was a more of a compliment to her parents than to her, and it felt fake and forced, kind of like when she was sick and her mother smoothed her hair back and told her she looked fine, just fine.

She was not beautiful, and she was not fine. But that was her own secret.

"It's good to see you again, sir," Bella said, as Billy came closer to her, rolling in a wheelchair she didn't remember.

"It must not be, if I look old enough for a _sir_," Billy grimaced playfully. "Jake, don't be a stranger. Come say hi to Bella."

A boy with dark skin and glossy hair moved forward, tripping over his feet. She couldn't make him out until he fell into the line of yellow porch light.

"Oh!" she said, recognizing the boy who used to throw mud at her down by the river as they waited for their fathers to fish out dinner. "Jacob!" She sprinted down the porch steps and was hugging him before she could think of what she was doing.

He stiffened in surprise, then laughed, a beautiful sound, like bells in a cathedral. "Hi, Bella. It's good to see you again."

She drew back, laughing at her enthusiasm. "Sorry, it's just... I forgot I had a friend here. It's nice. Are you going to Forks High, too?"

He shook his head. "No, I go to school on the Reservation."

Bella bit her lip. "Damn."

Jacob brightened at her curse word, like he had just found a new partner in crime. "But you will be riding to school in style." He patted the rusty truck next to him, something she had ignored until now.

"What? Dad?" She turned around to see her father stick a check into Billy's hand. "It's mine, really?"

Charlie smiled. "Uh huh."

She gave Jacob another hug, which made the adults laugh this time, too.

XxXxX

Bella had been more excited about having a vehicle of her very own than the actual 1950's piece of armor her father had bought her. But when she climbed in the next morning, her stomach shredded into anxious little pieces, she found she loved it. The radio worked, though she could only pick up a country and a gospel station, and the heater was lovely against her chilled, wet skin. She drove to school with a small smile on her face, trying not to think of the loud noise the engine was making. She hated drawing attention to herself.

That, of course, was always what happened. When she parked that morning, surrounded by her classmates, the truck backfired like a 12-gauge in an abandoned field.

She got out, ignoring the stares. She threw her backpack around her shoulder and ducked her head. She heard trilling laughter and looked up as a girl with a shock of dark hair, twisted and held with clips in the shape of British flags, smiled kindly at her. She was standing next to a tall boy with amber hair, wearing linen pants and flip flops – flip-flops, _in this weather!_

Bella was smiling at the pair of them so much she didn't see the pole in front of her face, and didn't recognize the pain until she was on the ground and heard people laughing. Tears sprung to her eyes, humiliation and the throbbing of a nose smashed against her face. She put her hand to it and saw blood.

"Come on, you're okay," said a sweet voice in her ear. A soft hand pushed back hair from her face and helped her up.

It was the girl who had smiled at her from across the parking lot. She was even prettier up close; she reminded Bella of a flapper girl of the twenties, all short hair and lanky limbs. Her lipstick was red, matching the red of the British flag in her clips and the red of her pointy boots. Her hand was soft against Bella's fingers.

"I think I broke my nose," Bella said, holding her hand under her nostrils to stem the blood flow.

The girl took Bella's hand away and gave her nose a good tweak.

"Ow!" Bella cried, snatching her face away from the girl's fingers. "That hurts like hell."

"It's not broken," the girl told her seriously. "My dad's a doctor; I've seen my share of broken noses. It'll probably be pretty bruised, though."

Bella groaned. "This is just perfect."

The girl patted Bella sympathetically. "Come on, I'll show you to the nearest bathroom. I'm Alice, by the way." She turned around and signaled to someone, the blonde boy Bella assumed, and then steered Bella inside.

"I'm Bella," she responded, but it sounded all muffled, like she had steel wool in the back of her throat. "I'm also the most accident prone person you'll ever meet. You'll probably have to pull me from death-by-speeding-car, or something."

Alice laughed, and it was like music. She opened the door to their right, and led Bella into the bathroom. A tall girl with dark hair was washing her hands at the sink, and turned when they came in.

"Oh! Are you all right?" she asked, going for the paper towel dispenser immediately, seeing Bella's bloody face.

"She ran into the pole outside," Alice said sympathetically. "They really should move that thing; it's so in the way."

"Oh, definitely," the tall girl said, coming forward with wadded up brown paper towels that had been run under the water. "It's such a hazard. You should complain."

The pole was nowhere near the entrance to the school, and Bella knew the girls were just being kind. She smiled.

"I'll be fine. If there's a pole to hit, a hole to step in, or a crack in the sidewalk to trip over, I'll find it." Bella held out her hand for the damp towels, and then pressed them to her nose.

The tall girl smiled back. "I'm Angela."

"Bella," she responded behind the wads of paper towels. "It's my first day here, and of course I'd make a grand entrance."

"Oh! You're Chief Swan's daughter. It's really nice to meet you. What's your first class?"

"Um…" Bella stuttered. "I don't know. I haven't made it to the office yet."

Alice laughed. "I'll take you, Bella. Clean up your face, and we'll go. Thanks for helping, Angela."

Angela smiled at Alice, and then at Bella. "I hope I have you in a class, Bella."

As it happened, Bella had English first period, and when she walked into the classroom, Angela waved happily from a seat by the window.

"Your face looks much better," Angela told her as Bella sat down, her backpack slamming to the floor. "What mascara do you use? Your eyelashes are so long."

Bella, who was not used to getting questions about her less-than-remarkable appearance, stared for a second before answering. "I don't wear makeup."

"No way," said a girl behind her shoulder. Bella turned, and a short girl with curly dark hair was staring at Bella's eyes. "No makeup? At all? Your eyelashes are, like, a foot long. No lie."

"It's pretty easy to tell," said a blonde girl with a simpering smile and a honeyed voice. "Her skin is so bland. Aren't you supposed to be from Arizona? Did you repel sun, or something?"

"I'm albino," Bella deadpanned, and Angela giggled.

The blonde girl's eyes widened, and Bella could just imagine the things people were going to be saying about her by the end of the day.

"Your skin is a bit plain," said the curly haired girl, "but your eyes are nice. I'm Jessica. You're Isabella, right?"

"Bella," she answered automatically, unsure of whether to be insulted or not.

The next three classes on Bella's schedule went much the same; the blonde girl whose name was Lauren sneered at her every chance she got, Jessica was sweet but perhaps too stupid to realize when she was being mean, Angela was a godsend, and Alice was in her fourth period, along with a boy named Mike.

"He keeps staring at you," Alice giggled on a whisper.

Bella groaned. "What did I do to earn such commitment?"

"You snarked at Lauren Mallory, who every girl is afraid of and yet, wants her to like them. You bonked your nose against a pole and made fun of yourself, and you're really very interesting to look at, Bella."

Bella rolled her eyes. "You should have seen me in Phoenix. I was barely looked at, at all. It must be the fact that I'm the new girl in a town the population of sixty."

Alice laughed behind her fingers. "This is huge for me. My family and I are from Alaska."

"Really?"

Alice nodded. "I want you to meet them. Sit with us at lunch?"

Bella groaned. "I promised Jessica I'd sit with them."

"Tomorrow, then?"

"Yes, tomorrow."

Jessica attached to Bella's arm on the way to the cafeteria, bouncing up and down and talking a mile a minute. Bella was very good at appearing she was listening when she wasn't, so she just nodded and gave mmm-hmm's when appropriate.

"Bella!" Mike called when they arrived in the lunch room. "Here, I saved you a seat."

She looked to Angela, who crossed her eyes in Bella's direction, making her giggle.

"Ah, I promised Angela I'd sit next to her, to uh, compare lists of books we've read already, for English…" Bella fumbled.

"You said you've already read _To Kill A Mockingbird_, right?" Angela said helpfully, patting the empty plastic chair next to her.

Bella and Angela talked halfway through lunch, giggling at Mike's obvious stares and sharing rolled-eyes over Jessica's asinine comments. Bella had just opened her mouth to ask Angela if she had gym seventh period when a loud crash and a very angry male voice stopped all activity in the cafeteria.

"I said _no, _Alice, and that's _final!"_

Bella looked over to the direction of the noise; she saw a tray still vibrating on the floor from the fall, and a tall figure leaning over the table, hands on the surface, body leaning towards her savior, Alice. If someone looked at Bella this way, she would cry for eight days straight, but Alice looked at the boy, unruffled.

Alice's blonde boyfriend went to rise to his feet in her defense, but Alice put a hand on his arm. Alice said something in a low voice to the indignant tall figure, which caused him to snarl loudly, and whip around.

The boy was beautiful in his anger, all golds and auburns, like autumn. His eyes were the color of the moss that grew only on the north sides of trees, and he was tall and thin, all angles and sharp fluidity. It didn't make sense that features like that should make someone so lovely, especially with his nostrils flared and his jaw tight – the bulges in his jaw line were intimidating – but he was lovely, and she wanted to take out her notebook and write him all over the pages.

The boy stalked in her direction, and she stiffened. Angela put a hand on her arm, and Bella was thankful, because as he ghosted towards the exit, he shot such a hateful glare in her direction that she could have burst into flames.

She looked over to Alice, who was giving her such a mournful look she almost felt more for her than for herself.

_I'm so sorry,_ Alice mouthed, and Bella nodded with a small smile. She liked Alice, no matter what had just happened.

"Oh goodness," said Angela quietly, wincing after the door slammed shut.

The cafeteria went into a buzz, and an administrator started after the beautiful, scowling boy. People craned their necks to see what was happening, but all Bella could do was duck her head to hide the bright red flush creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks.

"Who… was that?" Bella whispered to Angela.

"That was Edward Cullen," Angela answered. "Alice's brother. I've never seen him act like that… he's aloof, but always polite. Just like the rest of their family. Alice is the only outgoing one, but even she's distant, to an extent. I've never… oh my goodness."

"What did you do to piss Edward Cullen off so much?" Lauren called down the table. "Rumor has it, he loves _all _women… you must repel even man whores, Bella."

"If my brother is a whore, then what does that make you?" said a musical, infuriated voice behind Bella. "The village bicycle?"

"The village doorknob," Bella answered without thinking. "Everyone gives it a turn."

The table erupted in laughter, and Lauren's face reminded her of Bosch's paintings of Hell. She felt a small hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Alice's smiling face.

"Come with me, Bella?"

"Okay," she said, earning more stares from her classmates. Alice took Bella's hand, and they both waved goodbye to Angela.

"I just wanted to apologize for my brother's behavior," Alice said as they walked down the empty halls. "He's a very passionate sort of person… usually, he's good at controlling it, but he was very angry at me. Any animosity he shot towards you was all my fault."

"Why did he look at me like he'd rather me be dead?" Bella asked as they reached her locker. She had Biology next, so she took out her textbook and fiddled with her notebook.

"I… really can't tell you that, Bella." Alice looked at her apologetically. "But I promise I wasn't saying anything bad; all good, actually. He just…" She shrugged. "Well, anyway. I'll walk you to your next class."

The bell rang then, and they fell into step next to each other as people filed out of the lunchroom and into the locker hall.

"Will you still sit with us tomorrow?" Alice pleaded as she stopped in front of a classroom. "Edward will behave, I promise."

"Um," said Bella. "Sure."

Alice left her with a smile, so Bella went into the classroom and almost walked right back out.

Sitting at one of the black lab tables was Edward Cullen.


	3. The Bad Boys Standing in the Shadows

Thanks to le moulin, vanilladoubleshot, doitforyou, and windtrails. You all are my light at the end of the tunnel.

**Disclaimer:** Everything is owned by Stephenie Meyer; I only rudely manipulate their lives.

* * *

**The Bad Boys Standing In The Shadows**

Fate really hated her. She knew this, so she wasn't really surprised when the only seat available was next to the surly boy who had shot heat through his irises not even ten minutes ago in the cafeteria.

She plopped down on the stool, whipping out her notebook and trying to ignore the tight bands contracting in the pale fist next to her pen. She chanced a look in his direction, met dark knitted eyebrows over a black expression and quickly turned her face back to the front.

She flew to a blank page and wrote quickly, her handwriting making dark marks that carried to three pages below the one she scrawled on.

_He hates me, and I didn't even do anything. He hates me, like God hated Lucifer, and cast him down, and I'm sure this boy is just as beautiful as a fallen angel. _

She felt a gaze, looked up, and saw his eyes just leaving the paper she had marked. Glaring at him, all indignant prowess and private scribe, she continued.

_I see you reading this, and you have no right to treat someone you've never even spoken to like that. You can either be nice to me or ignore me. Give me a sign if you understand. _

An angry sigh left his lips after her last period, and she took that as a sign.

_Thank you._

When the bell rang, they both shot up out of their seats so quickly, their stools collided and fell with a resounding crash.

Bella bent down to pick hers up just as Edward did, and their foreheads knocked painfully together.

"Fuck," Edward growled at her, rubbing the red knot on his brow.

She was redder than a bed of poppies; she knew it. "Sorry, I'll just – " She reached for her stool, but his hand nearly smacked hers away.

"Go," he said in a low voice, all Zeppelin and cigarettes.

She went.

In gym class, she was so angry, she actually played a decent game of volleyball. By the end of the game, people were calling her Spike and Killer, but she assured them it wasn't an everyday thing.

"You're on my team from now on, right Bella?" asked Mike, all breathless blonde sweat.

He was actually a very nice person, cute in a Backstreet Boys sort of way. He had picked her for his team so she was saved the indignity of being last, and it had worked out to his advantage, today.

"Oh, sure," Bella said with a smile. "But really, Mike... this was all luck." And imagining the face of a certain maple-tree colored boy on the volleyball, but that was her secret.

"So, you're like, my Lady Luck Killer?" He grinned shyly.

Bella wrinkled her nose. "No, that makes me sound like a serial killer. You know, the ones they have to give names to."

He laughed. "Oh, right. Well, I'll work on the whole nickname thing, and get back to you."

"Sounds good." She turned to make her way back to the girl's locker room, when Mike stopped her with a touch on the arm.

"Do you have a cell phone? Just so, you know, I can text you as soon as genius strikes."

Bella, who might not be well-versed in boys but wasn't born yesterday, smiled at his fishing. "Sure. Meet me outside the girl's locker room in ten, okay?"

He took off so fast, she imagined Wile E. Coyote and the gust of air he always left behind him when running. Laughing at her weird day, she made her way inside the locker room.

She heard whispers as she was getting dressed, but Bella was good at stifling unpleasant things, so she pulled her sweaty hair back from her face with a pen and made to leave.

"Hey, Bella," Jessica called before she could make it to the door. "Mike is, like, the one cute decent guy we have here at FHS. Try not to snake him, okay?"

Bella stopped at the door. "Really? I thought Edward Cullen was more your type." It was rude of her, she knew, to throw the information that Jessica had been simpering after the seraph face with a vengeance ever since he and his family landed here.

Bella heard the disloyal cackles of Jessica's friends as she made her way out of the locker room, smiling at Mike leaning against the wall opposite.

"Hi," she said, and he returned the sentiment with a smile. "Hand," she demanded, whipping the pen out of her hair, making her smooth mahogany locks tumble in a pile over her shoulder.

She caught Mike staring, and it made her flush, red, white and black all over. She flipped Mike's hand over, and wrote her number in his palm with a smiley face. She had done this twice already today, for Alice and Angela, and she couldn't believe after only having a cell phone for two days (Charlie had bought it for her, and presented it to her last night, after the truck) she already had the numbers of three people.

She hadn't even had a cell phone in Phoenix.

"I'll see you later, Bella," Mike said happily, closing his palm after she finished. She was about to reply in the affirmative when she heard a derisive laugh.

She turned to see Edward walking behind her, shaking his head, a long paintbrush tucked behind his ear. Alice was by him, holding the hand of the blonde boy. She waved merrily, and Bella waved back, ignoring Edward all together. There were two others walking with them, a burly boy holding the waist of a girl with spiraling corn silk hair. The muscular boy smiled kindly at her with a little nod, and the blonde girl gave her a small grin, more of a survey than a kindness. Then they were gone, into the mystic of a Forks' afternoon.

XxXxX

"I'm really enjoying myself," Bella promised her mom that night, as she balanced her cell phone between her ear and her shoulder. She was mashing potatoes in a bowl for dinner, the exertion making her sweat a bit under the hot lights of the kitchen.

"Are you sure, honey? I remember hating it, constantly."

"Mom, you hate anything that has to do with snow or rain. Hence, why we lived in Phoenix." Bella switched the phone to the other ear and added more milk to the potatoes.

"That's true," her mother hedged. "Really, Bell, we're going to be moving to Jacksonville soon. Come with us."

Bella laughed. "I've only been here a day and you're already trying to get me back? May I remind you I left so you and Phil could have some peace as newlyweds?"

"Tell your mom she's not getting you back, and that's final," said Charlie behind her. He stuck his long finger into the bowl of mashed potatoes, and then licked them off. "Mmmmm, not ever. What are in these, Bell?"

"Ambrosia," Bella teased. "Um, just some ranch powder. Mom, Dad says he's keeping me forever to be his kitchen slave."

"I just bet," Renee said with a laugh. "All right, I'll let you go. You use that fancy cell phone and call me, okay?"

Bella promised she would, and with mutual love, they hung up.

"So, how was school?" Charlie asked as they sat down to the baked chicken, mashed potatoes and corn.

Cutting up her poultry slowly, Bella considered her answer. "It was okay," she said. "I met some nice people. Alice Cullen was really sweet to me right off the bat."

Charlie nodded in approval. "They're good people, the Cullens. Their story is a bit strange, but…" He shrugged. "Nice people."

Bella had heard through the grapevine that the blonde twins, Jasper and Rosalie Hale, had been dating Alice and Emmett Cullen (who were not twins) for a couple months when the handsome, widowed Dr. Cullen met the newly-divorced, beautiful Esme Hale. They had tried to keep it a secret from their dating children, but knew they were in love and wanted to get married. The children were horrified at first, but were allowed to keep dating, and so they all made one happy family, in the same house, under the same roof…

Bella thought it was a little strange and fairly gutsy and liberal of the Cullens, especially in this small town. But the Cullens _were_ nice, as far as she could tell, all except Edward.

She snorted. No wonder he had been left out of the dating game.

Later that night, she sat crossed-legged on her bed, notebook open in front of her. She held the cap of a pen between her teeth, reading the note she had written to Edward, pleading him to play nice or not at all. Sighing, she flipped to the next blank page, and began to write.

_I've always thought friendship was difficult, but maybe it takes a few nice girls in a small town to let me know that I'm the one who's backwards. My day could've been better, but not by much, and I refuse to let the dreariness of someone's demeanor ruin anything for me. _

_Alice is beautiful, dainty and tough, with long limbs and a short stature. When she talks, my head automatically leans towards the sound of her voice. Angela is tall and graceful, and moves like a dancer, gliding through the hallways…_

When she awoke the next morning to the alarm, she had her notebook draped over her stomach. She fell asleep writing, as usual, and it made her feel groggy and dirty. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and stumbled to the shower.

She had a better day at school. Alice was perfect in a long green trench coat and brown leather boots, and Jasper, Alice's boyfriend, spoke to her in a lovely Southern accent. She actually blushed from it, and Alice had laughed and grabbed her hand as they skipped off to fourth period.

Mike passed her a note that said, _how about just My Lucky Swan?_ And Bella shook her head no, that nickname wouldn't do either. Mike had sighed, and then acted like he was thinking hard, and it made Bella giggle in a way that was unlike her.

She walked with Angela and Alice to lunch, and made good on her promise to sit with Alice that day. Edward was there, quiet and brooding, his long fingers holding a stubby pencil against a sketchpad she couldn't see.

"Thought you were staying home," Alice had said as she offered Bella some Triscuits.

"Esme woke me up because the office called and said if I missed another day, they'd have to get the truant officer involved," Edward said in a low voice.

Alice rolled her eyes at Bella, who laughed, causing Edward to glance sharply up at her. She looked back at him, and watched him take in all the lines of her body, like he was drawing her in his mind. Then he shook his head 'no' at Alice, who sighed angrily.

Bella acted like she didn't see this whole exchange.

Emmett and Rosalie were kind to her. Emmett made her laugh so hard she almost shot apple juice out of her nose, and Rosalie checked Bella's nail beds for shoddy cuticles.

"Women are works of art," she had said, shooting Edward a disgruntled look, "and should be ready to give inspiration at a moment's notice." She had the same accent as Jasper, and it made her sound gentile and cultured.

She didn't play a very good game of volleyball that day, and she apologized to Mike with a laugh.

"I did warn you," she moaned as he rubbed a big knot in the back of his head.

He just smiled at her. "Don't worry, I'll let you play nursemaid."

She waved goodbye to Alice as she reached her truck in the parking lot.

"Call me," Alice said, "and we'll do something. I have to get away from all the testosterone."

"What about Rosalie?"

"Rosalie is her own special brand of testosterone. Did I tell you she rebuilds classic cars?"

"And I wouldn't touch this hunk of junk," Rosalie said behind her with a smile, nodding to Bella's truck. "See you, Bella."

"Let's go, straggler!" Alice called to Edward, who was lagging behind, flipping pages in a sketchbook like a man possessed. "Bye, Bella."

Bella waved and turned to her truck. There, perched on the bed, was a perfect little origami swan. She picked it up, transfixed, staring at the delicate lines and folds. She was so far into her mind, she didn't hear the loud squeal of tires, wailing high and frightening, before it was too close for Bella to do anything but scream and throw up her hands.

A rough hand grabbed her by the jacket and shoulder and hair. She folded into the person as Tyler Crowley's van made impact with her tank of a truck, the crush of metal and plastic and glass deafening.

"Oh my God," Bella moaned into the person's chest, shaking.

"You're fine," said a rough voice above Bella's head. "I think I pulled out a lot of your hair. Hey!" he called. "Someone call nine-one-one, I think Crowley's bleeding."

Bella caught a whiff of turpentine as Edward, her savior, backed away and handed her the small clump of hair that had come out of her head when he yanked. She took it, staring, not really feeling the stinging in her scalp from where it came out.

"Bella!"

She heard Alice's voice, high pitched and frantic, like the whine of an ambulance. Her tiny arms went around Bella's neck and she was hugging her tightly.

"Oh my God, I thought you were going to…"

"I'm fine, Alice. Edward pulled me away."

"I've never been so grateful for that jackass," Alice whispered.

"I heard that," Edward grumbled as tried to slink away. Bella went to stop him and thank him with a touch on his arm, but he wrenched out of her grasp and walked towards the silver idling Volvo, with Rosalie and Emmett and Jasper all hanging out.

"He can save my life and make me feel like he regrets it in the same breath," Bella whispered to Alice, earning a sad sigh in response.


	4. Inside Your Precious Heart

Thanks to le moulin for beta-ing and love, windtrails for excitement, doitforyou for music and vanilladoubleshot for laughs. Thanks to the reviewers and to the story alerts/favorites especially - if every alert/favorite were a dollar, I could buy all of you a meal at McDonalds. That's saying something.

**Disclamier: **They're not mine, promise.

* * *

**Inside Your Precious Heart**

Bella discovered that after one is almost crushed by an oncoming vehicle, there's a lot of paperwork involved. Charlie, who was the Chief of Police, rushed onto the scene, sirens wailing, red and blue spots of light in Bella's eyes. He found her sitting on the back of the silver Volvo, kicking her legs and sharing grapes left over from Alice's lunch.

Tyler Crowley had to be taken to the emergency room; he was bleeding from the head, and head wounds are always tricky. He waved goodbye mournfully to Bella, apologizing still as they shut the ambulance doors on his words.

"Bella!" Charlie had shouted, running faster than a forty-year old man had a right to. "Are you okay, honey – "

"I'm fine," Bella told her dad, just as she had told the EMT's at the scene. They had done a quick physical on her, and confirmed what she had said. "I promise."

Charlie turned to an EMT for a second opinion, and Bella rolled her eyes at Alice. When Charlie was satisfied, he turned back to them with relief sketched on his face.

"Honestly, Bella… it's only the second day of school. You're going to give me a heart attack."

"What did I tell you, Alice?" Bella laughed, nudging the smaller girl. "I said you would probably have to pull me from death-by-speeding car. I'm a magnet for trouble."

"You pulled her?" Charlie said dubiously, eyeing Alice's petite form.

"No, sir, my brother did. I'm Alice Cullen, by the way." She stuck out her hand, still sticky from the juicy grapes.

Charlie took it with a smile. "You tell your dad I said hello, hear? Which brother do I have to thank?"

Bella and Alice looked over at Edward, who was bobbing his head to some sort of music from his iPod and drawing all over the parking lot with sidewalk chalk he kept in his car. Charlie followed their gaze and seemed a bit taken aback.

"Is he… vandalizing?" Charlie asked, like he would hate to have to take in the boy who just saved his daughter's life.

"No, sir, that's just sidewalk chalk. Comes off with water. The next good downpour we have, it'll be gone."

Charlie seemed satisfied, so he walked over to Edward, adjusting his belt. That made Alice and Bella giggle. They watched as Charlie approached Edward and his drawing (it looked to be a bunch of ornate flowers) and stood in front of the boy without him noticing for nearly thirty seconds.

Then, it's as if Edward felt a shadow, because he looked up and the chalk dropped out of his hand. Bella laughed, because it reminded her that while surly and mean to her, he was only an eighteen-year-old boy, still afraid of the local police.

He wrenched an earbud out of his ear and wiped his hand on his shirt before sticking his hand to Charlie, who was talking to him a low, muted voice, all gratitude and gruffness. Edward nodded, looked behind Charlie for a second and locked eyes with Bella. He narrowed his eyes, not in a mean way, but searching and strange.

"If only you understood…" Alice whispered in her ear.

"Tell me. Tell me about him," Bella whispered back. Edward saw that they were talking about him, so he snapped his gaze back to the Chief and gave him the first smile she had seen on his face.

It was small and polite, but his eyes crinkled at the corners, and it made him look young and free, like an angel on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

"It's his story," Alice said, patting Bella on the knee. "Give him time. It's only been a day and a half, after all."

"A day and a half of enduring terrible looks and snarls," Bella protested. "Still… "

"I have to do some paperwork around here," said Charlie, who was back in front of them. "So you head on home. The truck was barely dented."

"It's a tank," Bella agreed, hopping off the back of the Volvo. "Bye, Alice. Thank Edward for me, okay?"

"Sure, Bella." Alice gave her a little squeeze.

All night, Bella worked on a card for Edward. It was Charlie's idea ("Why don't you, I don't know, bake him some cookies"), and while Bella couldn't see herself presenting Edward with baked goods, a card would do nicely.

As she worked, she kept glancing at the origami swan she had placed on her nightstand. She was certain it was from him; he was the only artistic person she knew, but the question was _why._ Maybe he was just shy. Or a social degenerate. Either way, Bella knew how it felt, so she would make him a card to let her know that she understood.

On the outside, she had written his name in elegant script, something she had perfected from a calligraphy class her mom had dragged her to in Phoenix. On the inside, she had written him a brief but heartfelt message.

_Edward,_

_I owe you all the rest of the days of my life. _

_Thanks,_

_Bella_

She thought that was simple, concise – a nice thank you to tell him that she owed him for saving her life, and that she would have tomorrow and the next day because of him. Satisfied, she turned off the light at midnight, ready to hand it to him first thing in the morning.

Bella should have known that when she got out of her truck and stepped straight into an ankle deep puddle, her day would not be what she had planned. Still, she tried to be an optimist, so she slung her backpack around her shoulders and trudged to the girl's bathroom, her boots making squishy noises.

She set her backpack down harshly, and a few of its contents spread out across the floor, shooting from the half-opened zipper. Sighing, she decided to pick them up after she was done drying out her boots. She stuck her soaked denim legs under the air dryer, loving the heat against the chill of her skin.

The bathroom door opened; Lauren and Jessica walked in.

"Hi Bella," Jessica said sleepily. "What… are you doing?"

"Drying my pants," answered Bella, not noticing Lauren's sharp eyes fall across a piece of paper that had fallen out of Bella's backpack.

A piece of paper that read _Edward _across the front in loopy handwriting. Lauren nudged Jessica and pointed down; Jessica saw it and glared. Lauren bent down, pretending to straighten her jeans leg, and snatched up the letter.

Grinning in triumph, both girls turned to leave.

"Bye, Bella," Lauren said nastily.

"Bye," Bella said, hardly bothered and used to Lauren's tone. She found it weird they came in to the bathroom for just thirty seconds, but maybe Lauren had just wanted to check her already perfect makeup. Either way, she gathered up her belongings and trudged out of the bathroom.

As Bella walked to first period, she noticed that a lot of eyes followed her. It was only the third day of school, so maybe people were still ogling the fresh meat. But before, the stares weren't accompanied with harsh giggles, shrill and vibrating Bella's ear drums.

She wiped at her face, wondering if there was a big glob of mascara under her eye. She had attempted to put some on today, so she could present Edward his letter with some semblance of beauty, but no, her mascara was in tact. A little crude, but in tact.

She glanced at one of the girls laughing; when they made eye contact, the girl acted like she was swooning, to the amusement of everyone around her. Confused and blushing for a reason she couldn't understand, Bella ducked her head and raced into her first period class.

Half the class was around Lauren Mallory's desk, giggling and whispering. When Bella walked in, she distinctly heard Lauren tell everyone to shush, and they all scampered back to their desks with various looks of amusement.

Angela had a smile for her, though, and Bella slid into the desk next to her.

"Did you finish the questions for Act I of Othello?" Angela asked. "God, could they be anymore vague?"

"I think I got them all," Bella said. "Hold on."

As she ducked down to her backpack, she distinctly heard someone whimper, "Oh, _Edward."_

Flushing, she remembered the note in her backpack and searched for it so she could slide it into a folder. She rummaged for a good thirty seconds, panic setting into a deep sweat on her forehead. She began breathing heavily, searching in places she knew she would never stick it.

"Oh no," she moaned.

"Did you leave your homework at home, Bella?" Angela asked sympathetically.

"No. Angela…"

"And I thought Jessica was the one whose type was Edward Cullen, Bella," called Lauren, obviously seeing her desperate struggle for the note she no longer had.

Bella looked up and saw her note in between Lauren's two fingers. The class burst out into laughter and Bella nearly burst into tears.

"Don't worry, Bella," Lauren continued. "I know where Edward's locker is; I'll make sure to get it to him." The teacher had just walked into the classroom. "Mr. Berty, may I go to the bathroom?"

Mr. Berty gave Lauren the bathroom pass and Bella watched her leave the classroom with her beautiful, heartfelt note in between her fingers.

"Oh, Bella…" Angela moaned. "I can't believe… she's always been mean, but God, that's just horrible for no reason. What did you say in that note that could spawn such… horrible things?"

Bella was almost hyperventilating. "I… just… I told him… I owed him the rest of my life… for… because… he saved mine, yesterday… and I would be dead, without him…"

Angela put a hand on her arm. "Can't you see how that could be construed into something cruel? I know you meant you owe him _for_ your life, but…"

"I didn't… I don't even _like_ him, he's so terrible to me… and now… it sounds like I'm in love with him, and everyone is going to _hate _me…"

"I don't hate you," Angela said firmly. "Pull yourself together. We'll talk to Alice about this, and she'll explain it to Edward, that it was just a misunderstanding, okay?"

Bella took a deep breath, aware of everyone watching her breakdown. "Oh… okay… thank you, Angela…"

Between third and fourth period, Bella saw Edward in between classes. Their eyes connected across the hallway, and Edward shook his head at her in a _oh, how pathetic _way. Ducking her head to hide the apples bursting through her cheeks, she raced into her fourth period classroom and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Alice.

"You have to tell Edward that I didn't mean what I wrote in the note like I want him for the rest of my life, just that I'm… I'm thankful!" Bella gasped, clutching the sleeve of the navy-and-white striped boat neck shirt Alice had on.

"Edward knows that, Bella," she said soothingly, patting her hand.

"You should see the look he gave me! Oh, God, Alice, I just wanted to thank him; I should have just baked him cookies like Charlie said to…"

"Edward doesn't like sweets. It's obvious the written word means a lot to you, Bella. Edward knows that. He asked me yesterday what was with the notebook you carried around all the time. "

"Alice, please talk to him for me. Please. I can't even look him in the eye."

"Bella…"

"_Please."_

"Oh, I'm going to_ murder_ Lauren Mallory," Alice growled, all tough indignity. She was beautiful in her anger, the hazel of her eyes flashing a feral yellow, like an eagle seizing its prey from thousands of feet in the air. "I'll talk to him, Bella. Don't worry, okay?"

She felt immediately better, sagging into her seat. Then, a note fell across her desk. She opened it, knowing whom it was from.

_Is our love so easily broken?_

She shot a smile to Mike, who was grinning sadly at her from a couple desks back.

_Use my number and you'll see how easy it is to mend the pieces. _

She threw it back at him, chortling when she heard Mike's easy laugh. She heard a disgruntled sigh from Alice, but figured it was because the teacher announced a pop quiz.

"I don't know where he is," Alice told Bella as they sat down at the lunch table. She looked to Jasper, Rosalie and Emmett for an answer, but they shrugged.

"I haven't seen him," Emmett announced. "He's probably Michelangelo-ing all over the ceiling of the boys' bathroom."

Everyone laughed.

"I was Van Gogh-ing all over the bathroom stall doors, actually," said a lyrical voice behind her, all promises and broken hearts. "Bella, can we talk?"

Bella stiffened, her heart behind her tongue. Alice nodded encouragingly, kicking Bella under the table to get her to stand. She rose without a word, following Edward out the door to the tune of cat-calls and _'get wet, Cullen!'_

They walked through the locker hall in silence. Edward's stance was awkward, hunched – he looked like a man defeated, and she wondered why she never noticed it before. This was not a boy who was confident and strong, but rather hiding behind a veil of arrogance. It made her feel better. He kept running a hand through his hair, the color of October leaves, graphite pencil smudges all down the side of his right hand.

They stepped out in the courtyard, and it was chilly in the March weather. She wrapped her arms tighter around her, thankful the rain had let up just a little.

"Edward, listen – "

"We can't be friends."

Bella loved words; she got off on syllabic twists of the tongue and guttural sounds of the French, poems with iambic pentameter and dark, rough descriptions a la Poe. She felt words held more weight than a sword or a punch, so when Edward Cullen, beautiful broken boy, swung those words in his ironclad voice, she literally took a step back.

"But why? I didn't – that note, I meant I owe you for my life, not that I literally owe you my life or that I want… you know… to spend my life with you – "

"Bella, I'm not a complete fool, so don't waste your time explaining to me those things. Do you really think that a seventeen-year-old girl could exhale so much passion into a note for a boy she barely knows? No, I understand what you meant. But I would have done that for anyone."

"I wasn't suggesting you saved my life just because it's _me _– and what's wrong with being friends? Who doesn't want a friend?"

"I don't." He ripped open his backpack and took out his sketchpad. Tearing a page from it, he handed it to her. "This is what I see. A plain, scared girl who doesn't know what she wants from anyone. I can't be friends with someone who is just as afraid as I am."

He moved to go past her, and maybe because he noticed the tears in her eyes or maybe because he thought his touch was the soothing balm to help all wounded girls, he placed a large palm on the crown of her head.

Then he was gone.

Wiping at the tears in her eyes, she opened up the rough sketch paper and looked down at the drawing.

It was her, staring wide-eyed, the way she must have looked to any bystander. Edward had caught the total bleakness of her features, from her straight eyebrows to her freckles to the point of her nose. She was not pretty, and she knew that, but to have someone draw her as she really was, it was like seeing herself for the first time.

Alice found her later, sitting on a bench, staring into the rain that wasn't hitting her thanks to the pavilion.

"Bella?"

Bella wordlessly held out the drawing, knowing Alice would understand.

"What Edward sees doesn't matter," she said fiercely, taking the picture out of Bella's hand. "Edward's perception is entirely skewed. He paints ugly things and makes them beautiful. But this," she looked at the drawing, "was him, trying to make a point."

"What point is that?" Bella wondered, just as the bell rang.

"He wanted to see if he could take something beautiful, and make it as blank as it feels."

"I'm not a canvas to be painted," Bella whispered. "Nor a piece of paper to be drawn. I'm already someone, a house that is already a home."

"But you are a person to grow," said Alice. "Whether Edward finds you beautiful or not doesn't matter. Do you feel beautiful?"

"No. I also don't feel eight feet tall, African-American, or red-headed. Because I'm not any of those things."

Alice gave her a side-armed hug. "Meet me after school. I know exactly what you need." She got up to leave. "Oh, and Bella?"

"Yes?" Bella asked, getting up to walk across the courtyard to Biology.

"Even if you don't think you're beautiful, sometimes it's okay to pretend." Alice gestured to her fancy clothes and her manicured nails, and Bella smiled.

Edward was in Biology, all silent declarations and loud intensity. Bella took out her notebook and wrote, messy handwriting flying across the pages.

_What is beauty, and why does it have to be subjective? Why is it that I'm beautiful to my mother and father, but not to Edward Cullen? What is cruelty, and why does it have to be transcendent? Why is it that people can find it easier to be mean, hateful, spiteful instead of kind, sweet, pleasant?_

_I may not be beautiful, but maybe with some makeup I could be. You can't put makeup on a battered soul, on a bruised spirit, on a hurt psyche. Your words do not penetrate, your drawing of who you see doesn't define who I am. _

_One day, I may be beautiful. But you will always be cruel, and I feel sorry for you._

The sharp intake of breath from the boy next to her made her smile. She looked up and caught his malachite stare, and shook her head at him the way he had in the hallway earlier, _how pathetic._

She was stronger than a thick piece of paper, more defined than sketchy lines.

And she would prove it.


	5. Picking Up Trash In Dresses

le moulin, windtrails, doitforyou and vanilladoubleshot - you all keep me sane in a world of insanity. Thank you for the music, the advice, the laughter. Thank you to every reviewer, story alerter and favorite-er. Thanks to every recommender, and especially to Kelly, who donned him Paintward.

**Disclaimer:** I can ride my bike with no handlebars, but I cannot claim any of these characters as my own.

The ending of this chapter might sound familiar. Hello plot progression, it's nice to meet you finally.

* * *

**Picking Up Trash In Dresses**

"Dip your head back," Alice told Bella as her strong fingers kneaded through the foamy shampoo in Bella's hair.

Bella leaned back and felt warm spray from the kitchen sink slip down her forehead and into her scalp. She sighed contentedly as Alice yanked and scrubbed and rinsed her hair.

Bella had never been the one to be girly, and Alice seemed to understand that. When Alice told Bella to follow her home for some 'girl time,' she imagined the horrors of dresses and nail polish and red lipsticks her pallor could never pull off. Instead, Alice had pulled out her designer shampoo she only used for special occasions, and told Bella nothing felt as feminine as a good blow out.

Bella had no idea what that meant, but trusted Alice and silently blessed her for not trying to turn her into a Barbie.

"I'm just washing and deep conditioning your hair," Alice told her, "and then blow drying it out, maybe giving it some curl, or straightening it. It just depends on what your hair does when it dries. We'll see."

Bella had stared into her reflection after this statement and noticed the black hairs in the middle of her eyebrows. She had never given much thought to something like eyebrow maintenance, but after seeing herself drawn, she couldn't help it.

"Alice," she had whispered, embarrassed. "Can you do something about these?"

Alice had spent five minutes explaining to her what a dick Edward was, and that she was perfectly lovely the way she was, and Bella spent five minutes explaining she appreciated that, but she figured her eyes were her best feature and wanted to make them more expressive.

"If you're sure," Alice had said severely, and Bella had smiled, knowing that Edward was in a lot of trouble.

Alice was almost through applying the hot oil treatment to Bella's hair when a loud crash and then _Moonlight Sonata_ trailed down the stairs and into her ears, lovely and perfect and sad.

Alice glared at the ceiling.

"Is that Edward?" Bella asked.

"Hm," Alice said shortly. "Go on up to my room; second door on the left. I'm going to set some hot oil in my own hair."

The Cullen house was something out of _Southern Living. _Esme was an interior decorator and brought her love for her homeland – North Carolina – into each nook and cranny of her home. The good doctor Cullen had given her free reign after they bought the house, located in the middle of nowhere, a good twenty minutes outside of Forks. Bella admired the cherry oak and white wicker furniture as she made her way to the winding staircase, a towel turbaned on top of her head.

She trailed her hand along the railing as she climbed the stairs, loving the way the sunlight streamed in from every angle, opening the house and making it a home.

She walked down the hallway, her heels hitting the wooden floor with dull thuds. She peered in each open room, and almost made it to Alice's room when something caught her eye. Doubling back, she looked into a room that had to be Edward's studio.

There were splashes of paint all along the walls, stains of graphite in the white carpet and the whole room smelled of turpentine and the acridity of oil-based paint. But that was not what had caught her eye; it was the giant canvas, almost completely covered by a white sheet. Feeling like an intruder, she crept into the room, the door squealing as she opened it wider. Bella inched towards the painting and reached a hand out to the thick sheet, and brought it up to reveal the painting.

On the canvas was a beautiful woman – she couldn't have been older than twenty. She was completely nude, sitting on a stool in front of a window streaming with sunlight. Her hair was a pile of strawberry curls, her expression warm and trusting. Air caught in Bella's throat, and she was so entranced by the young woman, she didn't hear the soft padding of feet until the owner was right behind her, blowing harsh words and ragged breath into her ear.

"See something you like?" accused Edward, hot and bothered.

"Did you do this?" Bella asked, gesturing to the painting.

"Get out, Bella," he hissed, grabbing the sheet from her hand and throwing it across the canvas haphazardly. It slipped down a bit, exposing part of the beautiful girl's face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I was just…"

"Being nosy."

"I'm naturally inquisitive," she sniffed.

"Bella," said a soft, lilting accent behind her.

Rosalie stood in the doorway, her hair back and a small smile on her lovely face. "Come with me." She held out a hand, and Bella walked forward and took it, not looking back at the scowling boy, terrifying and perfect.

"He does the whole 'troubled artist' thing a little too well," Bella said to Rosalie as she was led back down the hallway towards Alice's room.

Rosalie laughed lightly. "Aw, don't let him bother you, sweet. It's time to wash that hot oil out, anyway."

"Are you going to spend some time with us, Rose?" Alice poked her head out of her room.

"I'm fixing to go to work, actually," said Rosalie, gesturing to her simple clothes.

"Fixing to?" Bella said, confused by her language. "You're fixing… what?"

Rosalie laughed. "It's a Southern thing. It means I'm 'about to.' It drives everyone up here just crazy, I'll tell you." She waved her fingers at them. "Y'all have fun."

"Work?" Bella asked as she stepped inside Alice's room. "What does she do?"

"She works at a nursery," Alice answered. "She loves children, and they love her. She's so soft and gentle; they flock to her. I mean, she doesn't have to work… she would volunteer instead, if she could."

Bella nodded, thinking of the strange Cullens who were reclusive and kind and real. Over the next two hours, she and Alice laughed and shined and waxed, telling secrets and making ones of their own.

While Alice straightened Bella's hair, her phone chirped from inside her purse. Thinking it was Charlie, she rose to retrieve it, only to find it was a text from a number she didn't recognize.

_Using your number, Beautiful Swan._

Bella giggled, which was very unlike her, and she almost clamped her mouth shut from the strange sound leaving her lips.

"Who is it?" Alice asked, gesturing for Bella to come back over.

Bella showed her, and they squealed. For the next thirty minutes, she held a flirtatious text conversation – her first one – with Mike, all coy promises and dormant truths. Alice coached her on what to say, and they both wondered if he would notice Bella's newly waxed eyebrows.

"They look great," said Alice, admiring her handiwork. She gave Bella a bit of an arch and cleaned up the errant strands, and when Bella raised her eyebrow to accentuate a point, she felt European and dramatic.

Bella was on her way out when a sleek, black convertible pulled into the driveway. The driver had on dark sunglasses and a scarf over her head, black-and-white-movie style, and waved at Bella even though she was certain they hadn't met.

Bella waved back, waiting for the woman to say something. The woman shimmied out of her car, bumped the door closed with her hip and held onto her clutch with smooth, manicured fingers.

"You must be Bella," said the woman in a voice that spoke of sweet tea and southern summers. "I'm Esme Hale-Cullen."

"I'm Bella," she agreed, shaking the small hand that was proffered to her. "It's so nice to meet you." Esme wore elbow-high white gloves; the material was smooth and cool against Bella's skin.

"Likewise, sweet," Esme said, patting her hand. "Are you leaving? You should stay for dinner."

The door of the Cullen's house banged open and Edward stormed outside, a broken piece of what looked like a bench in his hand. "Esme, I broke another one, I swear to God…" Then he stopped short, noticing his company. "Um, I'll just be inside."

Esme gave the impression of someone who just rolled their eyes, but Bella couldn't be sure due to the dark sunglasses. "I can't keep a piano bench unscathed in his room. Lord only knows what the child is doing on them. Are you sure you can't stay, Bella? I'm making risotto."

"Oh, I have to get home and make Charlie dinner," Bella said, backing away towards her truck. "My dad, I mean."

"Taking care of men is a full-time job, isn't it?" Esme smiled beatifically. "Another time, then. Soon? Give the Chief our love, and tell him thanks for the wine."

"The wine?"

"Yes, he sent over some lovely Chardonnay and fish he caught himself," she said as she moved towards her big home, full of love and awaiting members. "For… well. Edward's good timing." She smiled at Bella.

"Oh, right." Bella might have said something more, but a black Mercedes pulled into the driveway next, and Esme only had eyes for the man behind the wheel. She felt she had met enough people for one day, so she waved vaguely in the doctor's direction as she walked towards her truck.

XxXxX

The next six weeks passed much the same. Bella laughed and studied and cooked and wrote and pined and hurt and grew and didn't. She and Alice grew nearly inseparable, and often included Angela in on their girl dates, which hardly ever meant girly things and usually meant dinner and trying something new, like a book club or an art exhibit in the city.

She and Mike also went out on one date, which was lovely and awkward and ended with an amiable agreement to remain only friends. Bella was too socially inept to flirt without Alice's coaching and besides, she hadn't been kissed and shied away from Mike when he tried to take her first one. He had been a complete gentleman, and he still teased her with outrageous nicknames and could always be counted upon to save her ass in gym.

The middle of April came and went, and maybe it was because she wore a short-sleeved shirt that first of May, but she felt different. She could taste summer's sweet salty breath in her lungs, like a burning cigarette. She longed for summers at La Push, which Jacob had been promising in abundance, every time he came over to dinner.

"Just wait," he had always said, bubbling over in excitement, "you haven't seen a beach until you've seen First Beach."

She grew very fond of Rosalie and Emmett and Jasper, for very strange reasons she could only write down at night, away from the glare of their beauty.

_When Rosalie comes home from the nursery, smelling of baby powder and sweat, it's hard to say when or if I've found someone more beautiful. It's not in the spirals of her ponytail or the sky of her irises, but in the gentleness she radiates, especially after being around babies. She has this maternal instinct that I'm not used to; Renee's maternal instinct went as far as knowing when I was hungry – and that was because I was screaming. But Rosalie always has a hand to smooth my hair, or a sweet word on her gentile breath, and I feel like weight has been let out of my lungs, like air being released from a hot-air balloon a little at a time._

_Emmett is strange. He upholds his reputation as the brawn, but surprises me with his brain. He and I had a full-blown discussion about existentialism, and when I told him Kierkegaard was my hero, he gave me a high-five like we were on the football field. Such contradictions make him interesting; such contradictions make him terrifying. _

_Jasper is distant, but I love him in my own way. He always has something new to show me about the Civil War, but we remain on those topics and never delve deeper. He is interesting and serious with a dry wit that sometimes astounds me. When I walk in the door, he always waves at me from the computer in their big den, and says something like, "Did you know that General Lee actually established himself in the Mexican-American War?" and I'll say no, and we'll discuss it, and I wonder if he talks to me about these things because he doesn't want to talk about anything else with me or if no one else wants to talk about these things with him._

Olive green was a good color for Bella, Alice decided one day. She said it brought out the undertones of her skin without making her look jaundice, and it made her eyes look dark and dramatic. Bella sincerely doubted this, but Alice was always adorable, so the first short-sleeved shirt she wore was green.

The school was buzzing with excitement. The sun was out and beach plans were being thrown around. Bella got a few invites, and even Lauren managed to jab at her – _"Edward won't be going though, Bella, so I doubt you'd be interested"_ – and even though Lauren was cruel, she was right about one thing: she wasn't interested.

Edward was another issue altogether. As she grew closer to the Cullens and the Hales, including Mrs. Hale-Cullen and the good doctor himself, Edward and she remained distant enemies. It baffled Bella, and it used to hurt her, before Carlisle explained a little something to her.

_The piano crashed angrily; music Bella didn't recognize hummed through the house like a livewire as she walked in after school that day. Dr. Cullen was sitting on his couch, reading the newspaper, and greeted Bella as she closed the door behind her._

_They had talked a little while about the weather and her schoolwork before Bella's wandering eyes had caught Carlisle's attention._

"_My son," he had said with a shake of his head. "Always putting himself apart, even when needn't be."_

"_Sir?" Bella asked, confused._

"_He hasn't told you?"_

"_Edward doesn't tell me anything aside from 'you're in my way' and 'stay out of my room.'"_

She had learned that day Edward was adopted. She asked Carlisle why Edward kept it a secret and he had said something wise about Edward not wanting to ostracize himself further. Bella had called him a social degenerate and, if you'll excuse me sir, an asshole, and Carlisle had chuckled sadly and agreed. He made no excuses for his son, the beautiful copper colored boy who didn't resemble the blonde Carlisle or the dark-haired Alice (whose biological mother had been just as brunette), who felt like he didn't belong or maybe, he just didn't want to try.

She would occasionally find origami swans on the bed of her truck, pristine and white, innocent and molded in the hands of the boy who had once told her he didn't want a friend who was just as afraid as he was.

Maybe that day he saw that she wasn't afraid.

Biology was droll; she had been in Advanced Placement classes in Phoenix, so she was eons ahead of Mr. Banner's winding down curriculum. She took out her notebook and doodled, drawing crude little swans and stars and her name, several times, _Isabella Marie._ Then she felt the ache for words in her throat and her fingers tingled; the pen moved of its own volition down the page, and she poured out everything she had been longing to say.

_I am not beautiful,_ she wrote. Her script was a mixture of cursive and print, the lovely handwriting already a contradiction of her words_. I am my mother's keeper, my daddy's little girl, and I thank them for my name, but I do not live up to it._

The notebook slammed shut suddenly, because she felt eyes where they didn't belong, ghosting her words with each loop and scratch.

"There is Camus in your back pocket, and a Biology textbook on your desk," she hissed at the boy next to her. "Surely, they are more interesting than the musings of an insecure girl."

"Sorry," he whispered back, and she could almost feel the heat of his shame in being caught.

She was flustered too; she hated confrontation, and she had spit fire at someone she hadn't spoken to in months. All he had done for the past six weeks was ignore her, shoot various looks of loathing and smoke in her direction, and then retreat back into his own space – in the lunchroom, across the parking lot, in Biology. She could feel herself shaking, so she raised her hand and asked for a bathroom pass.

Once she was there, she splashed water on her face, catching the reflection she had proclaimed minutes earlier as not beautiful. She was all dark browns, eyes and hair and eyebrows and tiny freckles on her neck, against skin the shade of an elephant's tusk. The heat of her hometown, Phoenix, had done nothing to put peaches underneath her skin; if anything, it made her more white, the antithesis sunburn.

She had no makeup on her skin for the water to mess up, so she scrubbed her face with a rough brown paper towel, the only hue on her face a bright red dash across her cheeks and forehead. She was flustered, and this made her color, two rose petals pushing against her sinuses and through her cheekbones. She was almost pretty then, she thought, but still not beautiful, still not _Bella._

But she was a Bella, a non-beautiful Bella, and that almost made her happy – she was a walking contradiction, and maybe someone, somewhere, would find that interesting.

When she made her way back to the Biology classroom, smelling of old crinkled brown paper and perfumed sweat, she slid back into her seat.

"Are you all right?" asked the voice next to her ear, his breath all boy and marijuana and the apple she had watched him eat for lunch.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper," she said quietly, though she wasn't sorry.

"I'm sorry I read your insecure musings," he said, sounding like a smile, but she didn't look up at him.

"You are not," she accused, folding her arms over her chest and resting them against the cool black top of the desk.

"You aren't, either," he replied, and she grinned despite her tension.

"We can't be friends," she told him, reminding him of his words from weeks ago, when he had snarled at her for thanking him for saving her life from harsh metal and slick asphalt.

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, licked his lips, and then settled on a wry smile. "I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella."

Bella looked at the boy, who was beautiful with only one glance and devastating with a lingering stare. His unlined face told of youth, but his eyes – with the antifreeze color and the gold ring around the black pupil, reminding her of a sunflower – told her of hidden wisdom, of secrets she would never learn.

"I'm not chasing you, Edward," she whispered.

He laughed, a clear noise, and it made Mr. Banner look up sharply.

"You couldn't catch me, Bella."

Mr. Banner was about to respond, but the bell tolled. Edward stood slowly, and she watched the lines of his strange copper-color hair, the hue of shiny new pennies straight from the bank. Even in fluorescent lighting, he was unattainable.

"Have a nice weekend, Bella."

Bella nodded at her desk, collecting her books and shoving them into her blue backpack. She felt him go by her, the heat from his body keeping her breath held in her lungs. Then he was gone, and she relaxed and picked up her Moleskine.

She didn't open her notebook again until late that night, ready to pour out the strange day in ink. She was full; Charlie had brought home some good steaks from the local butcher, and it was dry enough to grill, so he manned the outdoors while she made a salad and a pasta side. Now it was rainy, the good kind of rainy, where it made sleep comfortable and quick, and she was almost ready to succumb.

When she flipped it open to the page she had left off on, a very different script met her eyes. Under her rant of beauty lacking, were three words in a neat, elegant print:

_You are beautiful._

And, just for a moment, she believed it.


	6. A Hurricane of Warmth and Word

I am awed by the response to this little story. Thanks to all the recs, reviews, favorites, alerts, etc. This chapter is almost 5,000 words - hopefully that shows my gratitude. Thank you to le moulin, doitforyou, vanilladoubleshot and windtrails, for letting me vent, being nice about my typos and being enthusiastic, lovely people.

Also - some have inquired about my chapter titles. They are lyrics from some of my favorite songs.

**Disclaimer: **Stephenie Meyer would be chagrined to see my use of her characters.

* * *

**A Hurricane of Warmth and Word**

He ignored her the next day, as she knew he would. She was hardly bothered by it; she was used to his stony silences, and contradictory declarations in her private spilling space didn't change a thing.

What confused her was the change of heart he must have suddenly had. Maybe he finally decided she wasn't going anywhere and lightened up. Maybe Alice had finally given him a good kick up the ass. Or maybe he realized that he was the one who was afraid, and she wasn't.

But that didn't make any _sense._ He had drawn her for what she was and beautiful was not part of her equation. He had made it clear from the beginning.

When she approached the lunch table that afternoon, he was immersed in the Camus she had called him on yesterday, and that made her smile wryly.

"Here," said Alice, sliding a book across the table. "I absolutely loved it. Do you have any more books by her?"

Bella slid the book she had let Alice borrow into her backpack. "I have a _ton_ of her books. I'll bring you one tomorrow. Isn't she great?"

Edward snorted.

Bella shifted her gaze to him. His ears were pink.

"Do you have something to share with the class?" she asked.

"Um," he said into his book. "No."

"No, I think you do. Were you making fun of my literary choices?"

Edward put down his book and their eyes met for the first time in months. "And if I was?"

She gestured to his book. "Do you just carry that thing around? Do you actually know any French?"

"Rien de rien," he shot back cheekily.

She shrugged. "Hm. I prefer Russian."

And for some inexplicable reason, he grinned.

He was already in Biology when she sat down, her heart pounding. She knew what she was about to do and had no clue if it would work, if it would build or burn bridges. But Bella Swan was not a coward, especially compared to the scared child inside the six-foot-something man, so she opened her notebook and wrote under his declaration of her beauty.

_You are as quick to judge beauty as I am to dismiss its importance. _

Then she shoved the notebook over at him, keeping her face toward the front, knowing it was the color of bright fire trucks in childhood stories.

She heard his surprise intake of breath as he read her words, and her stomach plummeted to her toes and then came back up into her throat when she saw him pick up his pen.

_Perhaps this is what I find beautiful in you._

She considered this shortly.

_What has changed between the scorn of March and the sigh of May?_

She watched him smile as he wrote across the page.

_Your silence screams in my ears and I wish to know the quiet of your voice._

She harrumphed. _A few well-chosen phrases does not gain you access into my thoughts. _

_Then how would you explain this?_

That actually stumped her.

"Port Angeles," Bella repeated after Alice told her what they were planning on doing over the weekend.

"Yes," Alice repeated. "There's an art store out there, and Edward insists he needs more acrylics. Plus, there's this really cool hippie bookstore I think you'd like. Come, please? I have to look for a dress for graduation, anyway."

"Graduation?"

"Rosalie, Emmett and Jasper are graduating in, like, a month. You know this."

"I didn't know one was required to dress up for it."

"One isn't. I am." She smiled. "We can look for a dress for you, too."

Bella shifted uncomfortably. "Oh, I don't know. I have no one to impress."

"On the contrary, Bella. Jasper loves me, so it's not about impressing him; it's about reminding him of all the reasons he chose me. You, on the other hand, have all the reasons and abilities to impress anyone you so choose."

"I choose to impress myself with the ability to hold this conversation without vomiting."

Alice laughed, and it was like the refrain of a sweet love song. "If you say so. Let me know if you change your mind. I think we're going to meet Angela at the department store out there. Ben is graduating, too."

Bella nodded at the mention of Angela's long-term boyfriend. "It'll be nice to see her. We haven't gotten together in a few weeks."

Alice nodded just as Bella reached her truck. "Be at our house by two tomorrow afternoon, okay?"

Bella saluted her friend and climbed into her truck, understanding Dickens when he said it was a far, far better thing that he did than he had ever done.

XxXxX

Tired and slightly grumpy, Bella turned down the Cullen's private drive at one fifty-eight the next day. She had tossed and turned all night after reading Edward's words so many times they were emblazoned on her eyelids.

_Perhaps this is what I find beautiful in you._

When she pulled up to the house, Rosalie was looking under the hood of the silver Volvo.

"Hi, Bella," she called as Bella slid out of her truck. "Seems like we're going to have some transportation issues."

"What's wrong?" Bella asked as she walked over to the car. Something inside of the hood was steaming.

"Carburetor," Rosalie said. "Nothing I can't fix, but not with our time crunch. My M3 sits four, but that leaves…"

"Is my baby okay?" Edward asked, coming out of the garage without a shirt and baggy basketball shorts hanging low on his hips. "Oh. Um." He turned nearly purple. "Hi, Bella."

She raised her eyebrows at him, determined not to stare at the almost feminine jut of his hipbones. "Hi, Edward. Problem with the car?"

"Yeah." He seemed to get over the fact she was seeing him half-nude because she refused to acknowledge it. "Tried to start her this morning, but she wouldn't… well. Go."

"What kind of gas mileage does your truck get, Bella?" Rosalie asked, wiping her greasy hands on a rag.

"Horrific," Bella answered. "But that's okay. I just filled up."

"Edward will comp you for gas money," Rosalie insisted.

"Oh, no," Bella started, raising her hands. "That's not necessary. Alice drives me everywhere whenever we go out; turnabout is fair play."

"I insist," Edward said.

Bella gnawed at her lips. "We'll talk about it later."

"Hi, Bella!" called a voice above her. She looked up and saw Alice leaning out of her window. "I'll be right down."

Bella waved and smiled just as Emmett came out, a petulant expression on his face. "I cannot believe what I've submitted to. Rosie, you're completely capable of picking out something _for_ me, baby."

"I just want to spend some time out with you," said Rosalie in a voice that spoke of the same argument they probably had twelve times this morning alone.

Emmett sighed. "Thank God for TiVo, that's all I'm saying."

"That's all you're _gonna _say," Rosalie warned. Her accent came out stronger when she was edgy, and for some strange reason, Bella heard the banjos of _Deliverance _in her head.

She giggled, and Edward caught her eye. They stared at each other for a moment, and Bella wondered what he was thinking.

_Your silence screams in my ears and I wish to know the quiet of your voice._

"Guess they're ostracizing us, partner," Bella told him.

"It's not _like_ that, Bella," Alice insisted, coming out of the house in a cap-sleeved yellow dress that made her eyes look like the first flint of a fire and her hair a raven's wing. Alice may say she pretended to be beautiful, but Bella knew better.

"No, really," Bella said. "We can take a hint. Can't we, Edward?"

"Oh, um," said Edward awkwardly. He either wasn't used to joking around much, or being directly addressed by her surprised him. Both were easy to believe. "Yes, sure. Excuse me. I need to…" He gestured to his lack of clothes, and pushed past a surprised Jasper, who had just ambled out of the house.

"Where's the fire?" Jasper called, his accent making_ fire_ sound slow-burning.

"Bella lit a flame," Alice answered with a laugh.

"Don't even," she warned her friend, even though Alice's words ignited a spark in Bella's heart.

Ten minutes later, Bella and Edward were driving behind the rest of the group, her truck bumping against every jut in the road. She could see Rosalie's ponytail whipping in the wind, and she wished she were in the back of the convertible, feeling the air in her face.

Instead, she was sharing the stifled air of Edward Cullen, awkward boy wonder. Without the veil of the notebook or his art, she felt like she couldn't speak to him. They had never actually held a conversation without some sort of medium, and it was intimidating to be able to smell his light cologne and hear the breath leaving his lungs without knowing how to fill the silence with her own sounds.

So she turned up the radio. A poppy country song was playing, so she leaned back and enjoyed it. In Phoenix, she preferred alternative rock, but she hadn't brought many CDs with her, so country and gospel tended to be her only choices. She found she liked the simplicity of love and family the songs spoke of, and she allowed this one to bring her to a place of melancholy. It was sad and sweet, talking of heart prints and how they last forever, even if someone is gone.

"Turn it off," Edward said suddenly, and she noticed the white of his knuckles against the tight balls of his fists.

"Are you all right?" she asked as the song burst into its first refrain.

"_You sure left your mark, and we were just getting started… it wasn't long enough, it wasn't long enough together… but it was long enough, yeah, it was long enough to last forever…"_

"Turn the fucking thing _off,"_ he snapped, reaching a hand out to play with her ancient dials.

"Hey!" she cried. "I _like_ this song. Stop it!" She smacked at his hand. He grabbed her wrist tightly and she winced. "What the hell, let go of me!"

He pushed the power button as Bella wrenched her hand out of his grasp.

"_What is your problem?"_ she hissed. "I think you dislocated my thumb, Jesus."

He was silent for quite some time, his arms crossed as he stared out the window at the passing trees. Frustrated tears made their way to Bella's eyes; talking to Edward was like taking two steps forward and three steps back. It got her nowhere.

Edward glanced over finally, and he must have seen Bella's tears and the way she kept rubbing her tender wrist before she could turn her face away and drop her hand.

"I'm so sorry, Bella – "

"Isabella," she snapped. "Bella is my name for friends and family. For people I _like."_

He blew out a large breath. "I'm sorry, Isabella," he whispered.

"Just shut up, Edward," she said angrily, turning the radio back on and cranking the volume just to spite him.

Bella knew she was a furious mess when she stepped out of the truck. She expected Alice to come over and fuss, but surprisingly, the first person to speak was Jasper.

He was extremely empathetic to situations, but had a very strange way of dealing with people. Instead of the typical 'are you all right' or 'can I do anything' – he distracted.

"Did you know in the Civil War, only a third of Union soldiers died from some sort of battle-related wound? The rest was disease," he said quietly as Bella walked up to the foursome, leaving Edward behind.

"No," said Bella, shaking her head. "That's so sad."

Jasper nodded thoughtfully, his amber curls unrolling and reforming in the strong wind. "It really is. It was mostly dysentery and typhoid fever, but some people even caught childhood illnesses like the measles."

Edward breezed by them then, and Jasper put a hand out to touch his shoulder. Edward jerked away and continued to walk all the way out of the parking lot of the restaurant they were at, around the corner and away from them altogether.

Jasper turned his brown eyes onto Bella then, and they stared at each other, chestnut to chocolate, before he sighed and turned the hand to her shoulder.

"Be gentle, fair Bella," he said in his serious, significant way.

Alice came over then, to drag her to the department store. "Angela just called and said she's already trying things on. Let's go, okay? I know you don't want to do this, but your opinion is crucial to me."

They walked from the restaurant parking lot to the only department store Port Angeles had to offer. Alice clasped Bella's hand in hers as they strolled, and they swung their hands up and down and laughed.

"Bella, tell me. My brother gets in your truck with a tentative smile and comes out calling you Isabella. What happened?"

Bella explained Edward's snatching and grabbing and yelling and cursing. "I feel like I'm getting no where with him. I've been patient, and I thought maybe we were getting somewhere. I don't even care to be friends, really. Just… peaceful. Like this morning. Like yesterday, with the notebook."

"The notebook?" Alice asked, her eyebrows going together in the middle. "Time for another wax, by the way." She smoothed Bella's eyebrows. "If you'd like."

"I would." She sighed. "He stole my notebook while I was in the bathroom and told me I was beautiful, and then…" She told Alice the whole situation, with Edward's words, promises and declarations and ambiguity.

Alice sighed, blowing her short hair off her forehead. "I'm sorry, Bella." But she didn't offer an explanation, and Bella didn't bother to ask.

Two hours, three giggling girls and a blue dress Bella was talked into later, she escaped.

"Meet us back at La Bella Italia in an hour!" Alice called, looping her arm through Angela's as they walked down towards the harbor.

Bella waved and made her way to the hippie bookstore Alice had mentioned. She walked about a block and found herself in front of it; it was adorned with incense hanging from the porch light. Curious and smiling, she opened the door and the bell tinkled, announcing her.

"Hello, child," said a woman with long grey hair behind the counter. "Welcome."

Bella spent the next hour inside the quirky store, looking through yoga books and trying to not look at Kama Sutra books. The grey-haired owner would send words of wisdom her way every once in a while _("An apple a day keeps the doctor away, dear")_ and Bella finally decided on a self-help book that claimed she would be a new, confident woman by the end.

She didn't necessarily want to be a new woman, but she enjoyed reading words of optimism.

"Ah," said the old woman when Bella brought her book to the counter. "The thing with these books, dear, you want to be the opposite of what they are."

Bella scrunched up her face in confusion. "I want to be the opposite of confident?"

"No." She gestured to the glossy cover, showcasing a woman with a PhD and a large smile. "These books, the covers are beautiful and eye-catching and glamorous." She rang up Bella's book on an ancient cash register, actually keying in the price before hitting the cash button. "But on the inside, they're utter shit."

Bella laughed as she handed over a twenty. The woman counted her change back slowly, and then deposited her book into a generic plastic bag that said 'Thank You' in red print.

Still smiling, she made her way outside, tucking her wallet into her purse, thinking she needed a job sometime soon. She was absolutely determined to go to college and refused to dip into her savings account. Renee had sent her with five hundred hard-earned dollars, but she had been in Forks for two months and had to buy a lot of things Charlie hadn't thought of getting for her.

The sun was setting just over some buildings in the distance. The air was warm, but there was a nice breeze. She tripped over a tire iron in the front of an art store she didn't remember seeing the first time, so she stopped to get her bearings. In her musings, she must have taken a wrong turn, because she was facing a chain link fence in the back of an alley.

She turned and was confronted by a man she had never seen before.

"Hello," he said lowly, walking slowly towards her. "Are you lost?"

Adrenaline began coursing through Bella's veins, making her feel prickly under the arms. Her eyes darted to possible escape routes, but she was hopelessly uncoordinated and couldn't run fast enough past him or jump over a chain link fence without making it worse.

"No," she said confidently, reaching for her cell phone. "Just waiting for a friend."

"I see. In the meantime," he said with a smirk, dark-lidded eyes dangerous and calculating, "I'll be your friend. My name is James. What's yours?"

"Isabella," she said icily, wishing she hadn't scoffed at her dad when he tried to hand her pepper spray. "And I'm not your friend."

He was to her then, his cold hands against her forearms. His grasp was hard and rough, like rusted metal, and she gasped a little as he yanked her.

"On the contrary, Isabella," he said, pressing his body against hers and then pressing her against the brick wall of the building. "I think we're going to be very… close." His cold lips made their way to Bella's neck, and she shuddered, terrified and disgusted.

"Isabella?"

The man released her at once, snarling in his throat. Bella nearly collapsed with relief; there at the beginning of the alley, holding what looked like the tire iron she had seen lying in the sidewalk, was Edward.

"Mind your own business," said James, wrenching Bella's already sore wrist.

"Try me," said Edward, gripping the tire iron harder in his hand.

And even though Edward was beautiful and thin and not an intimidating person to look at, he had this strange presence that radiated confidence and self-control. James growled and let go of Bella with a shove, causing her to stumble and Edward to step forward, his nostrils flaring.

"Not worth my time," James muttered, moving to stalk past Edward. "Raise your standards, bro."

Edward stilled. He was so still it reminded Bella of the eye of a hurricane, calm and quiet, leading one into a false sense of security. "What did you just say?" he asked, more of a warning than a question.

"I said your girl leaves much to be desired," James said, looking him in the eye. "Boring as hell, and obviously stupid enough to walk into an alley alone."

Edward's jaw locked harder than tetanus, and before Bella could tell him to stop, there was a flash of metal, a loud thump and a body crumpling to the ground, knees to chest to face to pavement. Edward raised the tire iron again, but Bella cried out this time.

"Edward, stop," she told him, struggling to rise to her feet from her slumped position against the wall.

He shook his head at James' unconscious form. "He calls you stupid, yet he insults you when I have a tire iron in my hand. Ironic."

Bella laughed as Edward moved over to her, holding out a hand to help her up.

"I've got it," Bella insisted, but Edward grabbed at her hand.

"Let me help you, Isabella." He hoisted her up and she had about three seconds to analyze the way the crown of her head just hit his collarbones before she was nauseated, pent up adrenaline and fear and relief all mixing as a stew in her stomach.

"Oh no," she moaned, stumbling over to the first patch of grass she could find before she emptied her body's supply of bile. Edward's hands were in her hair, holding it back from her face as she gagged and coughed and heaved. She was on her hands and knees and before she could stop it, her gagging turned into crying.

"Isabella," he said quietly, hoisting her up for the second time. "Don't cry. It's okay." He dug around in his pockets and pulled out a rag.

"You actually carry around a handkerchief?" She laughed through her strange tears, taking the stained cloth.

"It's for painting. It probably smells like turpentine."

"That's okay." She wiped her shaking mouth and tried to dry her tears. "I'm sorry. The last thing you wanted to do was see me cry, I'm sure."

"The last thing I wanted to do was see you hurt. All the repercussions of you being almost hurt don't bother me." He brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes. "Are you sure you're all right?"

His long fingers were soft and meticulous, finding the exact spot on her heart to soothe. She breathed in heavily. "Yes, I'll be fine." She reached forward to him and hugged him on impulse.

His body was thin and hard, more from bone than muscle. She wondered if all stereotypes of artists were true – if they were all starving and so obsessed they couldn't be bothered to eat. Still, the lines of his back were solid and steady, and she pressed her hands into his spine and he hugged her back, surprised and stiff, but when she pulled away he was smiling.

"I'm hungry," she announced, and he laughed, his eyes brightening like a Christmas tree with strings of lights. His smile was a little off, the pull of his lips higher on one side, and he had a chip in one of his bottom teeth. Up close, he wasn't so perfect.

But up close, she found she liked him better.

"Let's go get you fed, then," he said, and they began walking down the road in the right direction towards the restaurant. His fingers brushed the back of her hand on accident, and she looked up at him as he looked down at her.

Bella had always heard chemistry described as a spark, but to her, that was ridiculous. She had never felt chemistry with anyone before, but now she understood what it was. It wasn't a spark – quick to ignite and quicker to dissipate, only leaving you burned. It was instead slow and lazy, like gentle waves in the bath and wrinkles in dryer-fresh sheets and it glowed between them like a candle, the only light source in a hurricane.

Bella broke the gaze first. Edward cleared his throat and they continued walking.

"Don't even act like you're hungry," Bella said after a moment, hugging her arms to herself. "My vomiting probably cancelled your appetite for days."

"I'm an artist, Isabella," he said with a smile. "My day isn't complete if I haven't thrown up from inner turmoil at least once."

She laughed, and he looked surprised, like he wasn't used to people laughing at his jokes.

"Edward?"

"Yes, Isabella?"

"Call me Bella."

He smiled at her slightly, but didn't answer. Instead, he picked his phone out of his pocket, dialed a couple numbers, and then flashed it to his ear.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, her purse and two bags becoming heavy and uncomfortable on her shoulder.

He held up a slender finger and spoke formally into the phone. "Yes, I just came across a man lying unconscious in an alley."

Bella clapped her hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. As soon as the phone call ended, she turned to Edward.

"I think you've comped me for the gas money."

XxXxX

"I hear you're looking for a job, Bella."

"Shit!" Bella cried as Alice ripped off the wax and cotton paper from her eyebrow. "I mean, yes, I am. Sorry, Esme."

Esme and Alice both laughed. "She's so awful, isn't she? Does it without a warning. I've uttered words my poor mother would be ashamed of, Lord rest her soul, all because of Alice's sneaky eyebrow waxing techniques."

Alice stuck out her tongue at her stepmother, then at Bella. "Ungrateful."

Esme rolled her eyes delicately. "Listen, sweet. My secretary has just taken maternity leave, and I need a replacement. All you'd be doing is answering phones, making appointments – "

" – Getting her lunch, painting her nails..."

"Yes, thank you, Alice. Just very blasé secretary work, but it's work. Don't feel obligated to say yes. I just thought I would offer."

"I would _love_ to," Bella said excitedly as Alice applied cream to her red eyebrows. "But I have no experience, whatsoever."

Esme smiled. "I have complete confidence in your mental competency, sweet. Do you accept?"

"_Yes_, yes! Absolutely. Thank you _so _much, Esme."

"Don't thank me so quickly. You may hate it."

Bella shuddered. "You have no idea what you're saying. I almost just accepted a job at Newton's. You're saving my life."

Esme looked horrified. "Well, okay then. Pay is only seven-fifty, bi-weekly, usually on a Wednesday. What time do you get out of school?"

"Two," Bella answered.

"Can you be in by three? I have another girl for the morning. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, only. I'm open 'til seven. That's not too bad, right?"

"Not at all."

"Saturdays are ten to four. I'm not open Sundays."

"Still not a problem. Thank you so much, Esme, again. When do I start?"

"Tomorrow," Esme answered, moving out of Alice's room. "Interior designing never sleeps, Bella. There's always some poor woman trying to match her hideous corduroy couch to her mother's antique Chinese rug. God save us all."

In Biology the next day, there was a lab. Bella and Edward talked quietly amongst themselves as she filled out all the answers. She had done this exact same thing in Phoenix, and Edward was too captivated with the strange shapes the molecules made to be of any help.

She told him about her new job with Esme, and he smiled and said he had helped her paint the walls. He said she could be tough on her employees, but it was only because she was a fierce businesswoman and wanted the best for everyone involved. As the bell rang, Bella made to leave but Edward stopped her with a warm hand on her upper arm.

"Here," he said, and handed her a red spiral notebook. She took it, confused, and he rushed past her, his face as pink as the flower clip Alice had stuck in Bella's hair at lunch.

When she opened it up, there was a drawing on the front page of her eye and brow bone, and the arch of her eyebrow. Her eyelashes were drawn long and dramatic, longer than they actually were, and he had sketched a flower that stretched from the corner of her eye up into a hairline that disappeared into the top of the page. He wrote _blooming_ underneath the line of her bottom eyelashes, and she blushed so heavily she was nearly purple.

Then, underneath his drawing, was a sentence in his neat script.

_When I was seven years old, my parents died._

She took a deep breath and dreamed of getting home for the night, where she could put some of herself into these strange new pages.


	7. It's Guts That Matter Most

As always, to le moulin, vanilladoubleshot, windtrails and doitforyou, my heart and soul and laughter and snark. To all the reviews, recommendations, story alerts and favorites. To those who nominated me for the Indie Twific Awards - I'm honored and thrilled.

I forgot to mention in the last chapter, the country song on the radio was 'Forever' by Rascal Flatts. Lovely, heart wrenching tale - and I'm not even a country fan.

**Disclaimer: **I can't even pretend these are my characters, only the silly little plot.

* * *

**It's Guts That Matter Most**

_Life is like a box of chocolates. Kidding; I actually don't like chocolate, but I do like life, so that simile doesn't work well for this situation. To me, life is like blown glass encrusted in diamonds: fragile and priceless. To be handled with care, to be revered for its beauty. I don't think I've lived long enough to judge if I've lived this way, but I hope in retrospect, I will be able to say I lived and loved and pushed and fell with all my heart. _

"Bella?"

Bella looked up from the red notebook, her pen pausing. "Yes?"

"I think… something is burning?" Charlie looked at her hesitantly, like he was unaware of his dominance in the kitchen.

Bella took a giant sniff and almost immediately coughed up a lung. "Oh, _God."_ She whipped around from her position against the small kitchen counter and lunged for the oven, in which the contents were most definitely charring.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I think I just made our fish so blackened, Cajuns wouldn't eat it." She opened the stove and smoke poured out. She waved her hand, trying to clear it, as she snapped on the overhead fan.

Charlie reached across her for the phone. "How does pizza sound?"

Bella sighed. "Not as good as freshwater trout, but good."

After Charlie spoke to the only pizza place that delivered for thirty miles, he turned to Bella.

"You're not usually prone to burning things. What's up, Bell?"

"Distracted," Bella muttered, sliding her red notebook off the counter, under Charlie's police officer eyes. "Doing homework. Sorry."

Charlie nodded in that I'm-your-father-so-I'm-going-to-act-like-you're-being-normal way. "Right, well. I'll call you down when the grub gets here."

Bella nearly ran upstairs, the notebook clutched to her chest. Her heart was pounding uncomfortably against her xylophone ribs. The thought of another human's eyes coming across she and Edward's notebook was strange, terrifying.

She plopped down onto her bed, bouncing a bit on the old mattress. Her phone buzzed next to her ear, so she rolled over and grabbed at it.

_What's another word for dark green?_

Ever since exchanging phone numbers, Edward had been asking her to put names to colors he invented on his palette. He said something about needing her knowledge of words for his knowledge of hues. Bella liked that.

_Your eyes._

Thirty seconds later, she snickered, imagining his horrified expression as she read his reply.

_Be serious, please._

Bella sighed, thinking of maybe flustering him a bit more. But if he was painting, or at least trying to, he was probably on a temperamental streak and she didn't want to evoke his fire. She was happy to humor him most of the time. He was aloof and strange, but had a warm heart, reds and golds and a chasm of untouchable blue, scalding and passionate.

The blue was the artist in him.

_Jade? _

_Thanks. Writing me something?_

_Drawing me something?_

_As soon as you write me something._

_Promise?_

_No._

Bella laughed and threw down her phone, turning back over to continue writing. Despite not promising, he was a very fair person, and would always return her writings with either a picture or a small story of his own.

After the sentence about his parents' death, he hadn't written another word about it. She wondered if his writing about something so personal right off the bat had something to do with a trust exercise, like falling back into a stranger's arms and hoping they catch you.

_What are you most afraid of? _she wrote in the notebook, finishing up her thoughts. Every time, she would end with a question, and sometimes he would answer and sometimes he wouldn't.

She was about to turn off the light when her phone buzzed again. It was around ten PM, and she was full of supreme pizza and soda, and rain was drizzling lazily against her window.

_Awake?_

Now, more than ever.

_Only just._

_Dark brown?_

_Chestnut._

_I was going to say your eyes. Goodnight._

_XxXxX  
_

"Esme's Interiors."

"Tell Esme to bring home some Sun Chips. I just ate the last bag, and I need some Garden Salsa in my life."

"Emmett? I'm Esme's secretary, not yours. Your snacking crisis goes down to the bottom of the list of my priorities."

"What's at the top? Filing your nails? Checking your Facebook page every seven seconds?"

"I am _not_ a compulsive Facebook-checker."

"You so are. I've seen you."

"I just like to keep things refreshed. Emmett, I'll put you through, but if your food demands cause me to get fired, I'll kill you myself."

"I hear you, kid. Hey, what'd you think of that documentary we watched about the six wives of Henry the Eighth?"

"Sorry. Anne Boleyn is still my favorite."

"No way! Catherine Parr _is the shit!"_

"Can I delicately mention Anne Boleyn birthed the person that caused the marriage failure between Catherine Parr and the love of her life, after Henry died? Clearly, Anne Boleyn wins in all aspects. The same daughter of Anne's ended up being the most famous queen of all time."

"Yeah, but Elizabeth died a virgin. So not cool."

"That's what you think."

The conversation might have continued – it had been an ongoing battle for days; Emmett was a huge history buff – but Esme poked her head out of the office and gave Bella an amused look.

"Bella, my client can hear you. Can you keep your Elizabethan arguments off the clock?"

"Busted," Emmett sang. "Tell Esme I said Garden Salsa. Or else. Catherine Parr _rules!"_

Blushing and laughing, she heard the dial tone on the other end as Emmett hung up.

"What was that about, sweet?"

"I'm sorry Esme. Emmett called to request you pick him up a snack, and we got into a bit of a verbal scuff."

"What does he want? I swear, he eats enough for all three of the boys combined…"

Bella grinned. "Fat-free rice cakes."

XxXxX

Bella leaned back against Alice's knees as they sat outside during lunch, enjoying the sunshine.

"I can't believe it's the last week of school," Alice said wistfully. "Bella! You have red in your hair."

"Only in the sun," Bella answered, loving the heat on her face. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. "Are you okay?"

Alice sighed deeply and ran a hand through Bella's hair. "I'm going to miss Jasper so much."

Jasper had been accepted to the University of Washington's history program. He had been up in arms about leaving Alice behind, waiting until almost the last minute to decide that he was, in fact, going. Alice was happy for him, and for herself, too – for the first time in two years, she and Jasper would be able to have a normal relationship, not under the scrutiny of those who thought their living arrangements were strange. Seattle was approximately three hours away, and she would stay with Jasper every other weekend in the apartment he had just secured in the city. They would be living as independent adults for the first time.

Rosalie and Emmett would be heading up to the University of Alaska, also living in an apartment in Fairbanks. They both missed the frigid climate and beauty of Alaska, and Rosalie would get her early childhood education degree in a state where teachers were scarce. Emmett was leaning towards engineering, and UA offered the only PhD program in the state.

"At least you have me," Bella said jokingly, patting Alice's hand. "I'm here for emotional support. I may not be able to provide for you in _all_ aspects of a relationship, but I can be your pseudo-boyfriend. Take you out on dates. Stammer about how pretty you look. Talk dirty to you about the Civil War."

That caused Alice to burst out in laughter, making several onlookers crane their necks to see what was so funny.

"I'm sorry I only caught the tail-end of that conversation, but please, don't elaborate."

Bella and Alice turned around to see Edward and Jasper standing to their left. Edward had his lopsided smile fully in place. Jasper was giving her a wounded look.

"Were you making fun of me, fair Bella?" Jasper asked in his serious way, low and mournful.

"Oh, no, Jasper… It was a joke, just trying to, you know, make Alice feel better…" As she stuttered, a smile crept onto Jasper's face, and his dark brown eyes twinkled.

"One might want to make sure the person you're referring to is out of earshot before you start insulting them," Jasper said, a teasing smile accompanying his boyish beauty. "Just some advice."

She threw blades of grass at him, which fell extremely short. Edward watched them fall, his eyes the same color. Then he looked back up to Bella.

"Biology?" he asked, proffering a hand to help her up.

"Ugh," she answered, just as the bell rang. She got up without Edward's hand, brushing grass and dirt off her butt. "Did I get it all?" she asked Alice.

"Yes," answered Edward. Then he blushed terribly, chomping on his tongue, realizing his implications.

Bella laughed, pointing at his dark red cheeks. "Magenta."

XxXxX

Bella never really considered the Cullen's house a hard-hat zone, but when she walked by Edward's bedroom one afternoon on her way back from the bathroom, she quickly reassessed her thoughts on the matter. A loud crash sounded, echoing in the large home.

She took a deep breath, gathered courage from the deepest place in her, and shoved open the door.

His studio lay in tatters. A leg of a piano bench was halfway across the room, and the actual bench drooped pathetically on three legs. Paint was dripping wet across the walls and down to the carpet. Edward himself, with different colors dribbled across his naked chest and cargo shorts, his eyes wide and frightening, was the most broken.

"Edward? What's wrong?"

He swallowed hard, shaking his head, motioning for her to leave.

"I'm not leaving. What's _wrong?"_

He gestured with his hands, obviously beyond words. She had no idea how to communicate with him, and she looked around his room wildly. Her eyes landed on a big piece of paper and several Crayola markers, so she grabbed at those and wrote.

_What's wrong?_

Edward dipped his whole hand in paint and smeared it across his canvas – red, angry, infuriated.

She wrote again.

_What happened?_

He finger painted a huge arrow in red, pointing to the left, to the covered up canvas she knew portrayed a warm, beautiful girl.

_How can I help?_

Edward swiped at a color, dashed it across the canvas, and then drew a question mark next to it.

How Bella understood his strange language she didn't know, but she felt him, every inch of his desperation to get back to earth from whatever place he was at.

She looked at the color, a light blue with a touch of green.

_Cerulean._

And on it went, she naming several different colors he created and she watched, transfixed, as his shoulders lost the tension slowly. As he painted a bright pink blot on the canvas and turned to her, sitting cross-legged on his carpet, she wrote _Pepto Bismol_ and that made him crack a smile, so she figured it was over.

But then he painted a yellow streak all the way down his canvas, soft and lilting, the color of fresh butter and marigolds.

She almost wrote a word, but he shook his head and moved towards her, and she scrambled to her feet, ready to meet him.

His hands went into her hair, grasping at the roots. Their foreheads knocked together, and she had never been so close to a boy before – but to have it be _this_ boy, infuriating and crazy and beautiful and gentle as he was, to feel their chemistry flow between them like warm gulf waves –

"Yellow," he said then, his breath hot and mourning across her face. He pressed their noses together, and she could barely hear him over the rush of heartbeats in her eardrums. "Yellow is sorry." His grip tightened in her hair once, and then he was backing away.

"Edward," she gasped, grabbing onto him, desperate to retain his heat. "It's okay, I'm here – I trust you – "

His sharp intake of breath carried him back to her. He cupped her cheek with his long, delicate fingers and pinned her to the ground with the flash of smoke in his eyes. _"Don't."_

Edward was not in school the next day, so when Bella walked out to her truck after the last bell rang, she was surprised to find a sleepy, disheveled boy sitting on her tailgate.

Surprised and secretly enamored. She couldn't exactly pinpoint the moment her heart started racing at the sight or the thought or the sound of Edward Cullen, but race it did, thrilled and exhilarated. A smile spread across her face of its own volition, and he smiled back, tentatively, ducking his head shyly.

"Hi," she said when he was in earshot. "How was playing hookey?"

He shook his head, opened his mouth, closed it and settled on a smile. "I just thought… I would give you this." He reached behind him and set the red notebook in her outstretched hands.

"Thank you," she said softly, a little bit confused on why he would drive thirty minutes out of his way to give her the notebook.

"Are you going to graduation?" he asked, picking a thread from his soft grey t-shirt, not looking at her.

"Ugh, that's coming up, isn't it?"

He looked at her strangely. "Um, yes. Tomorrow is the last day of school… so it's the next day, after that."

"Oh," she said lamely. "Um, yes. Then I'll be there."

He nodded. "Do you have… a ride?"

Bella dipped her head in ascent. "Yeah, Alice and I were going to go together. You know, she's a total mess about Jasper."

He blew out a very long breath, and then smiled at her without the lines next to his eyes. "Right. Well, I guess I'll just… see you there."

Bella bit her lip, and then nodded again, not understanding his strange bout into melancholy. She was sure she never would. "Okay."

"Right," he said again, jumping down, definitely not looking at her now. His palm opened, and a crumpled piece of paper fell out of it, onto the asphalt. Without another word, he turned on his heel and loped back to his idling Volvo.

She winced at the scream of his tires as he peeled out of the parking lot, frowning as she bent to retrieve the piece of paper he threw on the ground. She walked to the driver's side door, smoothing the paper as she went.

She nearly dropped it when it revealed itself. Crumpled, battered, a little damp from a sweaty hand – it didn't matter.

It was an origami swan.

XxXxX

Bella couldn't help laughing as Alice and Angela embraced. One minute, they had been talking about the pros and cons of eyebrow threading, and the next they were crying over their respective boyfriends leaving them for college, or as they saw it, forever.

"You're so lucky, Bella," Angela sniffled, taking off her glasses to wipe at the mascara pooling under her eyes. "Oh, crap, Alice – "

"It's okay," sobbed Alice, "I have suh… some… eye makeup… remover!" The last word caused a new bout of tears, and Bella stifled her giggles behind her fingers as the two girls hugged each other again.

Bella got up quietly and padded down the hallway to Jasper's room. She knocked on the door, and his low voice told her to come in.

She admired him from the doorway, his handsome broad shoulders and barely tamed curls twisting away from his face. He had on a simple white shirt with a black tie and black slacks – something Alice picked out for him, she was sure – and he looked classic and serious and lovely.

"How goes it, fair Bella?" he asked from his desk, where he sat fumbling with the buttons on his wrists.

"Jasper," she said in a low voice. "What did General Lee do whenever he had to leave behind his adoring wife for war?"

He looked up at her, understanding dawning on his young, unlined face. "Is she caterwauling again?"

"She _and_ Angela," Bella confirmed.

"I can't take the girl anywhere," Jasper said, his voice annoyed but his eyes shining. "Lead the way."

Jasper assessed the situation like a military man. "Bella, you take Angela. Get her some ice cream, or something. Alice, sweet, please stop…" He moved into the room carefully, his arms extended.

"Bella, you traitor," Alice sobbed, but went forward into Jasper's arms, careful not to get her damp mascara all over his white shirt.

Bella had often wondered about the odd dynamic of Alice and Jasper's relationship. She was carefree and light, tough and dainty. He was serious and strange, dry and handsome. But as she watched Jasper cradle Alice in his arms and whisper low words against her ear, she realized she didn't have to understand how things worked as long as they did.

"You look so pretty, Bella," Angela told her with dry eyes and rocky road ice cream on her tongue.

"Oh," said Bella, looking down at the blue dress Alice had made her buy. It was sleeveless, with a small v-neck and an empire waist. It stopped just below Bella's knees, and it made her feel feminine and light, like she wanted to put on big band music and swing dance.

"You really do," Angela said again. "Your hair is perfect, with the curls. What did Alice do? It's so shiny."

"I have no idea," Bella said. "I just sort of shut my eyes. She was taking out her sadness on me. She's never this bad. But thank you."

Angela laughed. "I know you think we're silly. But believe me when I say, you'll understand someday."

Bella shook her head vehemently. "I have my books and my writing and my thoughts. I'm happy just as I am."

Angela nodded, taking another bite of ice cream. "You think people want love to be happy? That no one has ever been happy before being in love? Bella, I was perfectly content in my little world, too. Love isn't supposed to be your whole life, your whole existence, your reason for breathing. It's to make your breathing a little easier, to compliment your life, to help you see a reason for your existence." She shrugged.

Bella nodded, thinking about this. For some strange reason, it made her think of the drawing she had found in the red notebook two nights ago.

It was of Bella, sitting cross-legged on dirty carpet, a piece of drawing paper in her hands with scribbles all over it. She knew it was Edward's perception of her that day she had helped him calm down. She looked desperate and caring and wild, her hair whipped around her shoulders in disarray. But what made the drawing stick out most in her mind was the minute detail Edward had added.

Over where her heart lay, in the shape of one, was the word _blossoming._

Rosalie and Emmett and Jasper poured into the kitchen then, dressed in their yellow caps and gowns. Rosalie's hair was down for once, pouring around her shoulders, and she was so beautiful it brought tears to Bella's eyes. Emmett looked like a giant banana, and Bella told him so, wiping the tears away in laughter.

"I still haven't forgiven you for the rice cakes, brat," he told her. "You're skating on thin ice."

"Ooooh," Bella said in a I'm-so-scared way. "At least I don't look like a giant yellow –"

"Dildo?" Alice offered, walking into the kitchen with a dark mark on her neck.

"Alice!" Bella cried, as the rest laughed. "What's on your neck? Jasper!"

Jasper just grinned. "The lady needed some reassurance."

"I'm disappointed, soldier," said a low voice behind them.

Alice moved and they all turned around, gaping at Edward, who hardly ever joined in the spirit of things with jokes. She could imagine him getting so embarrassed he never spoke again, so Bella opened her mouth and encouraged him.

"Stonewall would have been appalled."

That continued the easy banter, all reigning down on Jasper, who grinned easily with his hands raised, unapologetic. But Bella sought out the small grin of thanks from Edward, and she met it with a small smile of her own.


	8. Magic and Myth

Thank you to all reviewers - those who have been there from the beginning, and those who take the time to start now. I have nearly five hundred story alerts and nearly four hundred favorites, and I wish I could hug all of you. Thank you for nominating me in the Indie Awards (Best AU/AH WIP, Best Secondary Characters, & Most Romantic Moment). Thanks to the lovely ladies at the_gazebo for rec'ing me.

I also have a thread on the Twilighted forums, apparently. If you show up and ask questions, I will show up and vaguely answer. If you're interested.

Thank you to my rocks - doitforyou, windtrails, le moulin and vanilladoubleshot.

**Disclaimer:** The only thing that's mine is the longwinded author's note and the plot. All books, authors, musicians, songs, and recognizable characters are not mine.

* * *

**Magic and Myth**

As Bella made her way up the Cullen's stairs, a strange smell met her nostrils. She wrinkled her nose, the peppery sweet acrid burning tingeing the nerves in her sinuses.

Graduation had been lovely and boring at the same time. She joined Alice and Angela in the clapping and cat calling every time a friend or family member crossed the stage, but that got old very fast. Edward sat next to her the whole time, silent and serious, watching the graduates' progression across the stage with his verdant stare.

The one time he spoke to her, he leaned in close and whispered into her ear about how Alice couldn't take her eyes off Jasper, like a hunting dog watching the deer. She giggled, but it was more because of his hot breath blowing hair across her nose than the actual subject. She turned to smile at him, but he had been too close, and the tips of their noses brushed. He had lurched back and stayed in silence the rest of the time.

And now, as she walked down the hallway to Alice's room to change out of her dress, the strong scent carried her a few more doors down. She pushed open the door of Edward's room and saw him sitting on his windowsill, his hand dangling out of the open window. As she watched, he picked up his hand and put a long, brown stick into his mouth. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. Some smoke leaked out of his nose, but then he sucked it back in, and then blew all of it out.

"Edward?"

Edward yelped – _yelped! – _like a trodden on dog. He dropped the smoking brown roll onto his carpet and jumped for it, hitting his head on the windowsill. "Shit, shit, shit, fuck, damn it, fuck!"

"Did I scare you?" Bella asked, pushing the door open a bit more and stepping in.

"No, Bella," he said acidly, holding his throbbing forehead with one hand and retrieving the burning stick with the other. "I typically enjoy busting my head open on windows and burning my carpet with ash."

"You can't burn with ash. Ash is something already burnt."

Edward glared at her, funny frightened boy, his cheeks and hair illuminated by the moon.

"What are you smoking? Is that a cigarette?" She continued moving into his room, and he backed himself in the farthest corner.

"No," he said. "It's not something you'd want."

That irked her. "Why not?"

"Because I bet ten-to-one you've never tried it, and it's not for the faint of heart. I doubt you could handle it."

Something welled up inside of Bella – her pride and indignation and her weariness over being told over and over again by this man-child that she couldn't handle him. So she stalked over to him, plucked the hard brown roll out of his fingers, put it to her lips and inhaled deeply.

Smoke filled her mouth and lungs and nose and all the air around her was choking her and she couldn't breathe and she was turning blue she was sure.

"Bella!" A hard thumping on her back and she was coughing, spluttering, dying.

"That's… that's… vile!" she gasped between hacking coughs. It burned down to her toes. "Edward, what the hell is that?"

"It's a blunt," he said, and she could hear him holding back laughter. "It's… marijuana… and tobacco, just a bit. Combined."

"Ohgod," she said, all one word. "That's… I mean… how do you get enjoyment out of that – "

Edward laughed. "You are fucking crazy, Bella." Then he laughed again, harder this time, sitting down on his bed hard. "You made the end all the wet."

"I am _going_ to die," she wheezed, still coughing. Her head felt light and hazy. She snorted, and then giggled. "You don't have to protect me from _everything_ about you, you know."

Edward shrugged. "Esme and Carlisle can't stand it, so I'm used to hiding it." He waved the almost finished blunt in front of her face. "Want the last hit, lush?"

"What, no, of course not – " He shrugged, putting it to his mouth, but Bella grabbed for it and stuck the nub in her own lips, inhaling. She coughed again, handing the cinder to Edward. He was definitely laughing this time.

"Jesus," he said, tossing the thing out of the window. "I just got the Chief of Police's daughter high."

Bella sighed, walked over to his large bed, and plopped down on her back. "I feel funny. Why won't my eyes open all the way?" She forced them open with her fingers. "What?" Edward was hovering at the edge of his bed, looking torn. She patted the spot next to her.

With a sigh that came from deep inside him, he cautiously took the place next to her, a good three feet away.

"I feel sleepy, but not tired. Does that make sense? It feels good." She raised her hands above her head, watching the veins move in her fingers. She turned onto her side abruptly, facing Edward, who was on his back. He looked over at her as she propped up on her elbow. "Do you like me?"

Edward laughed. "What?"

"Sometimes I think you do. Are you a man whore?"

His eyebrows went into his hairline. "What makes you ask me that?"

Bella sighed, temporarily distracted by how it felt to scrunch her nose. "Oh, well, on like, the first day of school – or was it the second, I don't know… when you yelled at Alice in the lunch room, remember?"

"Yeah," Edward said in a low voice. "I remember."

"Well, you like, wooshed by and gave me this horrible look – it was so embarrassing – and Lauren goes, _I guess not even man whores like you._"

He snorted through his nose. "Why you would listen to anything Lauren Mallory has to say is beyond me."

"So you aren't?" She didn't know why she was pressing him, but something strange inside of her was asking the questions, and she could only sit back and listen.

He shook his head. "No, I'm not."

"So, are you… a virgin?"

"Well, no. But there's… I mean…" He shook his head. "Why am I even telling you this?"

Bella shrugged with the shoulder not against the bed. "Because I asked? I get the feeling that no one ever asks you stuff. But I'm not afraid."

"I've only been with one person," he said, but there was finality to his voice.

"Did you love her?"

"No."

"Was it only once?"

"No, Bella."

"Then you must have loved her."

That was the rush of water that burst the dam. _"I did not love her!" _He sat up and pointed a long finger towards the door. "Get _out,_ now."

"But, Edward… I didn't…"

"We may be friends, but that doesn't mean you're privy to every single detail of my life!"

"I wasn't… Edward, don't… I just am so curious about you – "

"I'm not a fucking book to read or a painting to study or, or – "

Bella scrambled up from the bed, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. "You don't have to be such an asshole. God, what's the point of being friends with you if I have to fight to unpeel every layer? Maybe you aren't worth it!"

He threw something in her direction – it was their notebook, hitting the floor and falling open to all the pages they had yet to read about each other. She looked at it, looked at him, and then slammed the door behind her.

XxXxX

"He's my brother and I love him," Alice said, holding Bella's toe still as she slicked pale pink polish on the nail. "But he has a lot of jackass tendencies."

"But," said Bella, drinking water that Alice had supplied after sniffing her suspiciously, "no one is just a dick like that for no reason."

Alice shrugged. "It's not for no reason, but…"

"I know. You can't tell me. Edward can't tell me. Bella remains in the dark, allowing herself to get screamed at by someone who she is weirdly crazy about; someone who, coincidentally, probably can't stand her."

Alice sighed, patting her foot. "I don't know if he likes you in a romantic sense, but I do know that he _likes_ you. He thinks you're funny, and he likes the fact you have a spine. He's said so to me."

Bella rolled her eyes.

"And he thinks you're pretty."

Bella laughed. "Oh please, Alice. Don't even. I don't even want to hear that."

"'Oh please' yourself. You're blushing ten shades of purple. What would you call that if Edward asked, hmm? Shocking pink? Fuchsia?"

"Oh, shut up!" Bella laughed, kicking out at Alice. Then she glanced around the room, shaking her head. Something red by Alice's door caught her eye.

"Bella? Isn't that you two's notebook?"

It was three-fourths of the way into Alice's room, having been jammed underneath the door.

"Yeah," breathed Bella, terrified Edward was giving it back for good.

"Don't move; your toenails are wet. I'll get it." Alice crawled over to the crack in the door, yanked it in, and then tossed it over to Bella.

Bella frantically flipped until she found the page – but really, it wasn't hard to find. The whole thing was colored yellow, the lemony smell of magic markers still coming off the slightly damp page.

"What is that?" Alice giggled. "Cheese?" She was teasing, but Bella was flying.

"Yellow," she whispered, hugging the book to her chest. "Yellow is sorry."

The next morning, Bella found herself teetering on the edge. She was starving, and the pancakes smelled amazing, but Edward was sitting at the bar alone with a novel in his hand and a fork halfway to his mouth. She didn't want to disturb him.

She sighed and decided to get some more sleep, and then wait for Alice to come down. She turned on her heel and ran straight into a hallway table.

_Oh, stealthy,_ she congratulated herself as she limped around it.

"Bella? Please don't tell me you're leaving me to eat all these pancakes by myself."

His voice was different in the morning, gruffer and gentler at the same time. It reached out to her and lassoed her and brought her back into the kitchen.

"I didn't want to disturb you," she said softly, hyperaware of her bed head and morning breath.

"Impossible," he smiled, and her heart skipped a happy beat.

So she walked in the rest of the way, grabbed a plate and stacked it with two chocolate chip pancakes. She made sure they were swimming in syrup before grabbing some milk out of the fridge, and then teetered her plate and glass over to the other empty barstool.

She climbed up, setting her plate against the counter with a smack. She could smell him – he hadn't showered yet – musty sheets and weed and night wind, and it wasn't exactly pleasant but it wasn't horrible. It was natural and it was him.

They sat in silence for a long while, as Bella chewed the still warm pancakes. They had just enough chocolate that it wasn't overbearing, but it added a tinge of sweetness that had her licking her lips for all traces. She turned to thank him, but tripped over his gaze. He flushed and turned back to his book.

She quickly looked down at her plate, staring at the butter and syrupy mess like it had answers. Then she took a deep breath.

"What book are you reading?"

He suddenly slammed his hand over the cover, hiding it from her eyes. "Oh, uh, nothing."

The book looked suspiciously like the one she had lent Alice. She could see the pink writing on the front. "Edward, is that my Sarah Dessen novel?"

"No!" he insisted. "It's uh, Sartre – "

"Sartre has a book with a daisy on the front?"

"Stop judging me, Swan."

Bella burst into laughter. "It _is! _Oh God, Mr. Camus is reading a YA novel about lo-o-o-o-ove."

"I hate you."

Bella laughed so hard, it was a shriek.

"You will tell no one about this," he threatened.

"Oh, yeah? What's it to you? What's in it for me?" She was teasing him, enjoying the red on the tip of his ears and the fragility of his secret.

He gnawed on his lips, and then opened them. "How about you keep this a secret, and I'll take you to the most beautiful spot in northern Washington?"

She smiled, her veins fluttering. "Do I have to keep this a secret, too?"

"Naturally."

She heaved a great sigh. "Oh, I don't know… all of these _secrets_…"

"Either that, or I'll kill you."

She laughed again, her heart feeling so light she was afraid she lost its anchor. "You wouldn't hurt me."

He reached out to her suddenly, drawing his long, thin finger across her cheek. "I would certainly try my best not to, Bella."

She sucked in her breath, and tried to breathe it out without the shake in her lungs. "So… when do I get to see this secret beauty?"

"Do you have plans today?"

She shook her head. "It's Sunday, so no."

"Well, now you do."

"You drive like an insane person."

"You whine too much."

"You cause me to whine too much."

"_Bella."_

"Edward?"

"Quiet." He reached over to his console and cranked up the music.

"You did not just volume me."

"You have been volumed."

Bella harrumphed, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared out the window at the rush of greens passing by the window. Edward had picked her up from her house just under thirty minutes ago – Bella had wanted to change into more comfortable clothing and shower, since Edward had insisted it was an outdoorsy activity. She had walked downstairs to Charlie explaining the semantics of a first-down in football to a bemused Edward, and it had made her laugh so hard, Edward was cranky.

A sweet, lilting melody hit her ears. Soft tinkling piano notes flew through the car and Bella sighed, content.

"You know Debussy?" Edward asked, misinterpreting her sigh.

Bella shook her head. "I know this is _Clair De Lune_… but I haven't heard anything else by Debussy. My mom would buy all those mood music things in Wal-Mart… you know, where you could push a button and it would give you a sample of the music? She couldn't afford much luxury, but she was a sucker for tranquility. And this was right next to Enya on a lot of those CD's."

Edward smiled at her, and pressed the 'next' button. "This is called _Reverie._ I enjoy this one, too."

"It's nice," she said dismissively. "But I really enjoy Yiruma."

Edward laughed. "Sap."

"_Kiss the Rain_ kills me." She watched Edward press 'next' again. "Oh, what's this one? I like it better."

"_La Mer,"_ he answered. "It's one of my least favorites, actually. I'll make you a deal," he said suddenly.

"Oh?"

"If you keep this secret," he said, talking about the place he was taking her, "I'll play _Kiss the Rain_ for you sometime this summer."

She looked over at him and smiled. "I was going to keep it a secret anyway," she told him. She took a deep breath and a chance. "But you've only sweetened the deal." She placed her hand on top of his. His fingers reached up awkwardly, seeking her grip.

She gave him her whole hand, and they rode the rest of the way in silence, their errant fingers doing all the talking.

"Edward," breathed Bella, stepping out of his car and looking around in amazement. "What is this place?"

"Just a random meadow I found one day," he answered, shoving things around in his trunk. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"How did you find it?" Bella wondered. "It's so off the beaten path."

He didn't answer. Instead, he slammed his trunk shut with a small canvas tucked underneath his arm, a few paintbrushes between his teeth, and tubes of paint sticking out of the cargo pockets of his shorts. He indicated she should follow him, so she did, treading slowly so she could take in everything.

It was a big, open mass of green grass and yellow flowers and blue sky and vibrating, humming, buzzing life. It was beautiful and it was unreal, and Edward had shared it with her.

He plopped down in the middle, sitting cross-legged. He placed the canvas in his lap, and started uncapping all the paints, using his shorts as a palette.

"What are you painting?" she questioned, sitting beside him.

"A landscape," he answered. "Just something to get me used to the paints again, and landscapes are easy."

She scoffed. "Easy."

He shrugged modestly. "They're simple for me." He looked over at her. "Don't feel like you can't do something else on my account. Watching me paint will probably be boring."

She understood. Translation: don't hover. So she shrugged, strolled the thirty feet back to the car, and grabbed the book Edward had told her to bring. Then she looked around the meadow for a comfortable place to lean and read.

Her first instinct was to go over to Edward, lie against his shoulder and open her book. She couldn't imagine a lovelier afternoon, but his stance was very tense and shut-off, and she knew by now he was more prone to a mood with a canvas in front of him.

So she found a sunny spot, laid down on her stomach, and cracked open her book. She got about three pages in before she was distracted, so she peered over the top of the novel at Edward. He was a good ten feet away, tongue between his teeth, a giant brush in his hand with yellow-green paint on the tip. She watched him as he worked, his shoulders becoming more and more relaxed with each stroke.

"Landscapes are easy because grass doesn't have a soul," he said to her eventually, after almost an hour of silence. She had long ago abandoned the pretense of reading, content to just let the sun warm her body as she watched Edward make love to his canvas.

"Explain that," she said, closing her eyes as the sound of his voice warmed her better than the rays.

"It's like…" He struggled for his words, and his painting faltered. "You can paint nature whenever you want to, and it remains. Well… not exactly. I mean, nature is just as transient as everything else… but nature will always be nature. There will always be a mountain to see, always be a flower to color. But with people… it's like…" He looked up at her for the first time, and she wanted to crawl over to him and write or tell him colors or hold his hand or anything to help him get this out.

"It's like…" he started again. "It's like you're asking permission to take part of their soul. When you paint someone, you take how they are, exactly at that moment, and transfer it onto a canvas. You make them immortal, forever young, forever beautiful. There's always that reminder of who they were on that canvas… even if they don't want reminding. You take the way the light hits them, you take their beautiful features and their imperfections, too. You take their trust to do it correctly. You… form a relationship with that person, a relationship far more intimate than even, oh, dating. Because with dating, or even… marriage… if it gets too scary for you, or if you discover you really aren't who you thought you were, or something… you can be like, oh hey, fuck this…. Never mind, I'm out.

But with painting, and being the painter… that person is giving you their permission to see all of their scariness and their worst and best and transfer it forever to something. And that really… that's huge."

Bella let his words soak into her, through her pores and into her skin and through her muscles and into her veins and through her bones and into her marrow. She took great gasping breaths of his soliloquy, wanting to hold it inside her lungs and then breathe it out into the world, to make it a little more beautiful.

She looked over at him, their eyes meeting across the meadow. "Who are you, Edward Cullen?" she asked.

He inhaled, deep and shaky, and then blew it back out just as unstable. "What do you want from me?"

Bella took a minute to collect herself, to gather her answer. Then she told him, without a second of doubt, before she was even totally sure she meant what she was saying.

"I want you to be written all over me."

He swallowed visibly. "Come here."

She crawled over to him, her book cracked and forgotten in a pile. When she was a foot in front of his face, and she could feel his gasping breaths across her face, she stopped and waited.

"When I yelled at Alice that first day of school," he began, his paint-stained hand coming up to touch her face, "she asked me… told me to paint you."

"Paint me," Bella said, not a question, but an acquiescence.

He smiled sadly as he traced the soft skin under her eye. "Haven't you been listening, Bella? I can't do that."

"I will give you that intimacy," she said.

He shook his head. "I won't take your soul."

"Edward," she whispered. "I think… you may… have my heart. So, what's the difference, really?"

"Don't _say_ that, Bella."

"Listen," she begged, sitting down on her haunches in front of him. "I'm not a silly, impetuous girl. I'm not saying these things with no clue what I'm telling you. You've been nothing but rude to me, except a few times I can count on one hand. Guys like Mike – "

"Newton," Edward growled under his breath, making Bella smile.

"Guys like Mike have done nothing but be nice to me, but they don't… they haven't… ugh," she cried, shaking her head. "How do I say this without sounding like a Harlequin romance? Edward, I'm strange and insecure and naïve and a lot of different things… but you have made me feel more beautiful than I ever have in my life, just with how you look at me, like you are right now. And if that could be transferred onto a canvas, where I could hold onto that for the rest of my life – the way you make me feel – then I could never regret that intimacy, not for a moment."

He shook his head furtively, but in the same moment, drew her to him. She fell into his chest awkwardly, her nose bumping against his collarbone as she tried to find a place for her arms – they fit nicely around his waist, so she put them there. She settled into his lap, smearing the paint from the still-wet landscape all over their clothes, but she couldn't have cared less. She buried her face into the nape of his neck, breathing in his scent and nearly crying from the closeness. He held her so delicately, like a flower made of porcelain, cradling her small form against his tall, lanky body.

"Bella," he whispered into her hair, and that was all he said, but it was enough.

He didn't get her home until nightfall. A light rain hit the windshield of his car as they both sat in Bella's driveway, listening to Beethoven and mapping each others hands with tracing fingers. The air was made of their bated breaths, both cowards – afraid of making another move so soon and what their advancements would mean for each other. She wanted him to kiss her so badly, every time she thought about it her stomach would erupt in this strange burning, sickly sweet sadness that brought tears to her eyes and left her lips feeling strangely empty, even though she had never known pressure there.

Eventually Charlie came out to the porch, raising his eyebrow. Bella sighed and let go of Edward's hand.

"He'll think we're necking like two teenagers in Grease," she laughed. "I better go inside."

"When will I see you again?" he asked, putting his car in reverse as she opened the door.

"Soon," she told him, ghosting a kiss on the finger trailing her face.

"Please," he whispered.

Later that night, when Bella tried to recall the day into her personal notebook, she could only write the incredulity she felt.

_One moment I was enjoying the warm sun and marveling at the company I was in, and the next I was begging for him to steal my soul like I had always known it was his._


	9. Someone To Take Her Home

Thank you to everyone who is pimping me/recommending me - I got an alarming amount of story alerts/favorites (not that I am complaining), some from a few of my favorite authors. Embarrassing fan-girling ensued. Just ask vanilladoubleshot. Thanks to her, doitforyou, le moulin and windtrails, my four lovely betas. Who is lucky enough to have four betas? I am, apparently. Thanks to all the lovely reviews; yellow for all of you, because I am shit at replying.

_Bare_ has made it to the final round of voting in the Indie Twific Awards. I am in total awe.

**Disclaimer:** Does my use of your characters dazzle you, Stephenie Meyer?

* * *

**Someone To Take Her Home**

_I have no idea what I want to do when I get out of Forks, and that terrifies me. Whenever I say this to my mother or my father, they get this awkward parental air and say, 'you can do whatever it is you want to do, Bella.' But I can't. I really can't. Dividing polynomials and balancing chemical equations or even finding the minute detail of analysis in __The Awakening__ (was her suicide cowardice or bravery? I don't know!) baffles me to the brink of baffleability. That's not even a word!_

_You're so lucky. You have this talent that defines you and makes you part of who you are, like breathing or blinking, involunt_

She stopped writing when another sigh came from the woman sitting in the lobby with Bella. Esme was running a bit late with another client, and the overdressed, overbearing woman kept staring at Bella like she had the power to push time forward. She bit her lip and glanced up, and the woman's cold eyes met hers. She flushed and looked back down.

"Can I offer you a water?" Bella said in a small voice.

"No, but you can tell me when your boss will be making time for me. I came _all_ the way from Seattle, you know."

"Yes ma'am," said Bella. "So you've told me. I have no control over – "

The woman waved her hand, scoffing. "I don't want to hear that."

Bella took a deep breath, thinking of the people training Esme had been trying to teach her. Offering the woman a beverage didn't work, so she pulled out the next stop. "Ma'am, I assure you Esme is worth your time."

The woman gave a derisive laugh, but said no more. Bella was about to try the next on her list – offering her another beverage – when the front door opened, the small bell tinkling.

A smile spread across Bella's face involuntarily. Edward made his way inside, shaking his head like a dog – it was pouring outside, and there were dark dots of rain on his light purple t-shirt. He got water on the rude woman, who scoffed and took out a tissue to blot at her blouse.

"Hi, Bella," Edward said, returning her smile.

"Hi," she said on a long breath, knowing she was grinning like a loon. Then, she realized their notebook was wide open and he was creeping towards it suspiciously, so she slapped it closed. "I don't think so."

He appeared affronted. "What?"

"I saw you sneaking a peak, don't even act like – "

"Excuse me, girl, but instead of flirting, could you perhaps do your job and let your employer know that I'm extremely unsatisfied with both her tardiness and your unprofessionalism?" The haughty woman in the corner was sneering at Bella and Edward.

Edward's back stiffened, and he turned to face the woman. He gave her a once over, turned to Bella, turned back to the woman, and then stalked to Esme's office. With three sharp raps of his knuckles, he walked in.

"Well!" cried the woman. "He didn't even have an _appointment – "_

The door to Esme's office opened finally as the sounds of a business meeting wrapping up trailed into the lobby. The obviously pleased customer thanked Esme, nodded and smiled at Bella, and trailed out of the building, paint swatches and carpet samples overflowing her purse.

Esme walked out then, looking imposing, beautiful and intimidating in her black suit. She crooked an eyebrow at Bella, and then sent a beatific smile at the woman who was stiffly getting out of her seat, ready for Esme's attention.

"Ah, Misses…?" Esme started.

"Champlaign," the woman supplied.

"Misses Champlaign," Esme began again. "I'm so sorry, but it seems as though I'm all booked for the time being. Maybe try back next season." She turned to Bella. "Sweet, can you fetch me a water? I'm parched."

Bella smiled, feeling like something important had just happened but not sure exactly what. As she made her way to the lobby from the fridge in the back, a cold Dasani in hand, she heard the woman's loud voice over Esme's sweet lilt.

"_I'm all the way from Seattle! I am an important woman and I will tarnish your name if you don't see me now!"_

She couldn't hear Esme's reply, but a loud slam of the front door let her know exactly what Mrs. Champlaign of Seattle thought of it. She rounded the corner to find Edward glaring beadily at the shuddering blinds on the back of the door, and Esme grinning gently behind her soft hand.

"Oh, thank you, sweet," she said, taking the water from Bella. "Some people," she sighed, "just didn't have any raising. And Bella?"

Bella turned from watching Edward, who was watching her just as intently. "Yes?"

"Don't ever let anyone make you feel less than you are, hear?"

Bella nodded, hoping she could keep that promise.

Feeling shy next to him all of sudden, Bella hugged the notebook to her chest as Edward walked her to her truck an hour later. He had never really specified a purpose for his visit, and the last hour of her shift they spent playing tic-tac-toe and hangman on a few blank pages in their notebook. His fingers had brushed hers a few times, soft strokes painting warmth on her skin, and their eyes had met and held and tripped and fell.

Now she felt breathless and strange, and part of her wanted to push him up against her rusty red truck and kiss him until he couldn't breathe. But she really wasn't that type of girl, and besides, she had no idea how to kiss, and she'd probably suffocate him with her tongue or something, and then he really wouldn't be able to breathe, but not for the reasons all the love stories said –

"Bella? Are you having an aneurysm? Do you need medical attention?"

She scowled at Edward. _"You_ need a personality transplant."

"That would be entirely offensive and I might cry," Edward paused for dramatic affect, "if I were still ten years old and only just hearing that insult for the first time."

"You are in a particularly antagonistic mood today," she noted, fishing her keys out of her purse. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You are just lucky, I guess," he said with a smile. Then he plucked the red notebook out of her grasp. "You have kept this too long. My turn."

She went to grab it back on impulse more than wanting. "Stop it! I wasn't even finished."

"Bella," he said, even though he handed it back to her, "didn't you know some of the most beautiful things are works in progress?"

He said this very close to her ear, and his hot breath was on her neck, seeping into her skin through every orifice, and she acted on pure instinct stepping closer to him –

And then the notebook was out of her grasp again, and he was several feet away, jogging backwards to his car.

"Never let your guard down," he called to her, radiant in his victory. "What are you doing tomorrow?" He was yelling from across the parking lot.

"Going to First Beach," she answered, "down in La Push. You should come."

He grimaced, shaking his head. "You resist capture once again, Bella. Until next time?"

She gave a funny little curtsy, tipping sideways as her equilibrium wobbled back and forth in her inner ear. He laughed, and she giggled, and everything was light, even the rain, trying to damper her.

It was only as she drove home that she realized why her first instinct was to grab the notebook back from Edward.

She had been doodling that day, writing her name over and over again as she usually did, but that had become boring, so she added a new name next to hers.

_Edward Anthony._

She beat her forehead against her steering wheel once for good measure.

XxXxX

She laughed as Jacob Black stepped out of the freezing cold water, shaking his long hair out from his face like a dog.

It was a warm, sunny day, and Bella was enjoying the sun on her bare arms. She was in a modest one-piece swimsuit with cotton shorts over her bottom, but even so, she felt extremely exposed.

"_Jacob,"_ she griped as he got water all over her sun-ridden body. "Stop it."

"I can't help it, Bell." He sat down on the towel next to her. "Are you sure you don't wanna get in?"

She shook her head; she was sure. "I can't swim to save my life. I'm quite content here, just me and Bond, James Bond." She shook the Fleming novel in his face.

Jacob shrugged. "Suit yourself. But what did I tell you? You haven't seen anything like this before!" He gestured to the giant rock jutting out from the Pacific.

"I sure haven't," she sighed, wishing Jacob would go back in the water and splash around with his friends some more, so Bella could gather the words in her heart. She couldn't wait to describe this to Edward.

"Hey," he said suddenly, nudging her with a chilly, bronzed arm. "Are you okay? You've been out of it all day."

She looked up at Jacob's young, trusting eyes, wondering if she could possibly confide in this strange creature.

She sighed. "I'm so okay I'm not okay at all."

Jacob's dark eyebrows drew together. "Huh?"

Bella laughed. "I'm just very… I'm afraid to be elated in case I've blown something entirely out of proportion and I'm misreading everything. But if I've read everything right, I think I'm happier than I've ever been. Does that make better sense?"

Jacob nodded, like he was trying to follow her train of thought. It was very sweet; he was only fifteen and not a female, so he probably had no clue what she was even saying, but his earnestness made her smile.

"Is this about a guy?" he said finally, his beetle-black eyes shining at her with a crinkled smile.

"Maybe," she whispered, mortified. It felt like she had just admitted that to a younger brother who was about to tease her mercilessly and then photocopy her diary for all the world to see.

"Who is it?" he demanded, nudging her again. "Come on, tell! I won't breathe a word to the Chief."

"You probably don't even know him. His family is pretty new."

Jacob stopped laughing suddenly. "Don't tell me it's a Cullen."

Something blazing blue shot through Bella's happiness at the snarl in Jacob's undertone. "Edward Cullen, actually," she said stiffly. "Why? I invited him today, but he turned me down."

"Good," Jacob growled. "The Cullens don't come here."

"Uh," she said, feeling very offended for the sweet family she loved. "Why the hell not?"

Jacob turned away, his voice becoming soft and harsh in the same breath. "Doctor Cullen was the attending surgeon when my mom was brought in… after her… you know, accident…"

Jacob's mom had died a little over a year previously, due to a drunk driver – the same accident that put Billy in a wheelchair. She was barely alive when they brought her in, so Charlie had told her, and they were unable to save her. She died on the operating table.

"Don't tell me you blame Carlisle for your mother's death," she whispered.

"_Carlisle," _he spat. "He _killed _my mother."

That was a very thin line to tread. Bella wanted to slap Jacob silly for ostracizing the good doctor and his family – she actually wanted to slap all of La Push, because she knew the tribe stuck together, so she was sure they all felt this way about the kind Cullens – but she also wanted to hug the sad little boy who missed his mother terribly.

She touched Jacob's trembling arm. "Doctor Cullen and his family are good people," she whispered. "But I don't know how I'd react if I lost Renee or Charlie, so I can't… judge you for that. I wish I could, because they're my dear friends… but you are, too." She took another deep breath. "Your mother was so beautiful. I remember her letting me braid her hair for hours."

Jacob turned his head back to her, eyes glistening but mouth smiling. "You were totally entranced by it."

She nodded. "It was so silky and smooth, like glass… like obsidian. Oh, and she made the best cookies – I remember those she made with the Hershey's kiss down in the middle..."

Eventually, Jacob made his way back to the water smiling and laughing once more, but Bella remained on the shore, anchored by her thoughts.

XxXxX

Bella was half-asleep later that night when her phone rang, shrill and insistent. She shot up, disoriented and feeling for the small device through the folds of her covers. Her hand found it and she shot it up to her ear.

"Hello?" she asked, her voice half an octave lower than usual.

"Did I wake you?"

It was strange, she mused later, how every single cell in her body began to wake up – yawning and stretching and groaning – once the sound of his voice made its way through her ear and into her mind, soul, heart.

"Maybe a little," she admitted, rolling to her side and stifling a big yawn. "But that's okay. What can I do for you?"

"Grace me with your presence?"

"When?"

"Now?"

"Uh, Edward? It's one AM."

"I couldn't sleep." He sounded sheepish. "I can go back home, though."

She was totally awake now. "Uh, what?" She threw the covers off her body and stomped to her window. She yanked the curtains back, and there stood Edward, leaning against his car, with his cell phone pressed to his ear. He gave a feeble wave.

"Um, hi," he said. "Look, this was _really_ stupid of me, so I'm going to go back home and we can just pretend like this never happened, okay?"

She was flushed and exhilarated, but made sure to close the curtain back before letting the smile stretch her face painfully. "Don't move."

"What?"

"You heard me, Cullen. Don't move. I'll be down in five. If my dad catches us, I'll let you brave the shot gun."

"Consider it a deal."

She hung up, threw her phone on the bed, and stood still for ten seconds. Then she stomped her foot and gave a funny little squeak, clapped her hands together, and dressed in the first casual-yet-one AM-appropriate thing she could find. She brushed her teeth and wiped the sleep from her eyes and then tip-toed down the stairs, her flip-flops thumping against the wood much too loudly, in her opinion.

She closed the front door quietly behind her, walked down the porch steps, and then there she was, standing in front of the strange sort of beautiful she had been thinking of all day.

"I… don't really sleep," he admitted. "I tend to forget that other people usually need rest between the hours of ten PM and eight AM. Forgive me."

She shrugged, not caring at all. "Well, I'm here. What was so important?" she teased.

"I was wondering…" he trailed off, scratching the back of his head. "I was wondering if you would let me draw you."

She winced involuntarily, thinking of the first drawing he had done of her, and how completely plain she was revealed to be. He noticed and shook his head.

"I promise to play fair."

She nodded. "Okay. I told you I trust you, and I do."

"Do you?" he asked, suddenly very serious.

She nodded. "I told you," she whispered, putting a palm over the rapidly beating organ in the left side of her chest. "I've never… it's never been…"

He understood. "Then allow me to put my heart into you," he whispered back, brushing the back of her hand, the one over her heart. "As you have so graciously done for me."

They ended up in her backyard, Bella sitting underneath a patch of moonlight. It was one of the most intense moments of Bella's life, having Edward's unwavering stare tracing every line of her body. She sat with her legs hugging her chest, her chin propped on her knees, staring off into space.

"Tell me about you, Bella," Edward said suddenly, as he began the shading. "I feel like the only way I can describe you is with my five senses, and not actually with basic knowledge. You're from Phoenix, right?"

She told him her story as he drew, detailing things he asked about and skipping over things he didn't voice an opinion on. Her mother and Phil, her very limited social life and her pet cactus, and the way her writing weaved through all of it, anchoring her down and rising her above.

"You say limited social life," he said at one point, his strong thumb following a curve on the page she couldn't see. "Surely, you had friends."

"No one worth mentioning," she said sadly. "I kept to myself – not because I was particularly shy or because I thought I was better than everyone. I just… did. Renee and I were practically inseparable, and she was my mom – she was the easiest best friend to have, especially considering the debauchery I wasn't getting in to. I mean, I had acquaintances I said hi to in class, but…"

"I just find that so difficult to believe," he said, using his whole hand to shadow something. "You have these really astute, organic observations that come from someone with a lifetime's more experience."

Bella blushed, and she wondered if he could see it under the white, blinding moon. The way he smiled softly at her answered her question.

"I watch a lot," she answered. "And I listen. I think there are some sorts of knowledge that can be obtained without having to experience it."

"Really," he said. "Like what?"

"Well, like love," she said, and suddenly Edward became very interested in rubbing the paper just so. "You have all these preconceived notions about love so when you finally do fall, you know what you're getting into, like, oh, so _this _is love."

"I disagree," he said. "I think love is subjective. It could be anything to anyone."

Bella shook her head. "It has its constants."

"And what would you know of love, Bella Swan?"

"I know that it's a completely unstoppable force, but I wouldn't try to hold it back, even if I could."

"All this from a girl who hasn't even been kissed?" he teased.

"How do you know I haven't been kissed?" she shot back.

He laughed. "Just admit it, Bella."

She shrugged. "I'm not ashamed of it. I'm a virgin in every sense of the word, still open to all opportunities and experiences."

"Done," he said finally, holding the drawing away from himself so he could get a better look at it.

"Edward," she ventured cautiously, wanting to take advantage of his warm, open behavior. "You've pried my brain apart. I wonder if I could have the same opportunity?"

"I suppose you've earned that right," he teased her, flipping shut his sketchpad.

"What happ – hey! I wanted to see it!"

"Someday," he promised. "You were asking?"

Disgruntled, she continued. "What… happened to your parents?"

He sucked in a breath, obviously not expecting that question. "I don't want to talk about that, Bella."

It was tacky to beg someone to talk about their parents' death, so she sighed, resigned. "All right, then answer this. Why were you so cruel to me the first few weeks I was in Forks? What was that drawing all about?"

"You can't possibly think that drawing correctly interpreted what you look like," he said incredulously. "Bella, it was… stupid, totally idiotic… but remember what I said, about seeing a plain, scared girl? I saw what you were putting forth, and drew you as you felt, blank as a canvas. I hoped… it would act as a catalyst, because I saw… _see_ so much potential in you, but… and these past few months, you've… blossomed, bloomed." He smiled, and she recalled his drawings, telling her these words in pictures. "I wrote it in your notebook; I draw it all over you, just as I want you drawn all over me: you are beautiful. Your insides push through; they give you color, life and spark, just as it should be.

Other girls spend so much time putting makeup on their face, not understand that their true beauty is captured by what leaks out of them. _You_ understand that. It makes you so lovely it's hard to look at you for very long."

Bella shook her head vigorously. "That just doesn't make any sense. Nothing adds together – you keep telling me little pieces of the puzzle, yet I feel like the big answer is still deep down below, all wrapped up in razors and knives and things it would only hurt me to try to open."

"No one has been this close to me in years," he told her after a few seconds' pause. "Forgive me; friendship is something I am relearning."

The word _friendship_ made her blossoming flower wilt in a too-strong storm. Yet she nodded, still willing to give him time to come to her, to want her the way she was beginning to want him. She still had so many layers to peel away from him – or maybe it was like a thread hanging off her favorite t-shirt; one wrong tug leaving the whole thing unraveled.

They sat in comfortable silence for quite some time, twenty feet apart in her backyard, yet she felt closer to him than ever.

Finally, he broke the silence as she tried to stifle her third yawn in quick succession. "It's getting too late. Go to sleep. I will see you again soon."

"I'll walk you to your car," she said, and she did, strolling with him around the side of the house and into the front yard, where his Volvo was waiting to take him home.

"My birthday dinner is on Saturday night," he said as they approached the vehicle. "Alice asked me to ask you to come."

Deflated, she nodded. _Friendship. Alice asked._ He must have noticed her expression, because he turned her chin up gently, letting the moon brush her cheeks like errant fingers.

"Alice actually had nothing to do with that invitation. I would like you to come, if you would want to…" He looked embarrassed.

She rose up on her tip-toes, flying on impulse. She grazed his cheek with her lips, the early morning stubble scratching pleasantly against her. He sucked in a breath, and it was all she could do not to press their lips together.

Instead, she backed away. "I would love to come."

He smiled at her wanly. "Good. I've been working up the nerve to ask you since I came into Esme's."

"Don't be nervous," she told him. _"Friends_ do that sort of thing."

He noticed her bitter use of the word _friends._ "Bella, don't misinterpret my intentions. I want to be your friend, so I can know everything about you any old average Joe could find out. But, I'm selfish – this is only before I try to find out the secrets only I will know, if you would allow me."

"We shall see," she said coquettishly.

"We shall," he agreed. Then he popped open the door to his car, reached inside, and handed her their notebook. "Until next time."

He left her with a warm palm against her face, and she nearly floated up the stairs to her room, thinking she had never had a more wonderful, confusing conversation. When she got to her bed, she opened their notebook to the newly filled page.

She nearly flushed purple. It was an erotic picture – an octopus in between the legs of a woman, clearly performing… some sort of… well, she didn't know – _act…_ while the octopus' many tentacles grasped at the woman's legs and breasts and nipples and oh my god, was he trying to kill her?

Her phone beeped a few seconds later, a text message from the artist himself.

_Sweet dreams._

"Bastard," she whispered, as a new sort of life continued to spark hot inside of her.


	10. The Tragedies of Chemistry

So many people to thank, so little time. I had the honor of being recommended on the amazingly hilarious Twigasm Podcast by the lovely ninapolitan. Also, the ladies at the Fictionators blog gave 'Bare' a beautiful, glowing recommendation. 'Bare' has also made it to the final round of the Indie Awards, which end today, I believe. If you haven't voted for your favorite fic, shame on you!

Thanks to the many story alerts/favorites and reviews. They make me smile, although I am no bueno at replying. The lovely gals on the Twilighted thread make me smile. My four - FOUR - betas are the world's greatest.

**Disclaimer:** Stella say not mine. Stephenie say all hers.

* * *

**The Tragedies of Chemistry**

_Then you are humming, thrumming, coming inside – compliant but not complacent, sated but not satiated. _

"Bella?"

Bella screeched and nearly jumped out of her skin as the seraphim face of Rosalie Hale appeared in the open window of Bella's truck. She had been sitting in the Cullen's driveway for almost five minutes, reading and rereading the words she had scratched shakily in the red notebook, revenge and longing.

"Lord, child, you will wake the dead with that caterwaul. Why are you dawdling out there? Come on in!" Rosalie opened the truck door for Bella, who scrabbled around in the passenger seat for the brightly wrapped present for Edward.

"Sorry," Bella said with a laugh. "Just… thinking. I hope I'm not late."

Rosalie shook her head, brushing hair out of Bella's eyes. "You look real pretty, Bella. That's a nice color for you, that deep green."

Bella colored, always embarrassed and incredulous when Rosalie sent sweet words her way.

Rosalie laughed at her blush. "Now you look like Christmas," she giggled, pointing to Bella's red cheeks, complementing the verdant dress.

"Oh, funny," Bella huffed with a grin, following Rosalie inside the house. It was decorated with banners and balloons, and a huge white cake was sitting in the front dining room.

"Bella!"

She turned to the tune of clacking heels and met thin arms around her waist. "Hi, Alice," she laughed. She shoved a bag decorated with cakes and balloons in Alice's direction. "This is for Edward."

Alice grabbed the package and looped her arm through Bella's. "Everyone's in the kitchen. We were just about to sit down for dinner, so you're right on time."

"Good," said Bella, watching Alice plop down the gift on a table already overflowing with brightly colored packages. "I was worried I was late. Charlie had me on the run around trying to find this special fish seasoning…"

"You came."

Bella looked up. The rest of the family was in the kitchen, filling their plates with food, buffet style. They all smiled at Bella, but she could only see Edward, who had uttered that sentence and stopped filling his plate with baked macaroni and cheese, serving spoon halfway to his plate.

"Of course I did," she said softly.

Edward moved towards her and Alice moved away, and for the second time in five minutes, she was scooped into a very exuberant hug. Admittedly, this hug did a bit more to her, with her face pressed against the warm, worn cotton of his blue oxford shirt, his heart beat bumping against her ear. When he drew away, she saw six identical smiles on the faces of the Cullens and Hales, but she could barely register that before Edward was pulling her towards the assembly line of food.

"Are you hungry?" he chattered, handing her a paper plate. "Esme cooked all of my favorite foods, but I didn't know if you did or didn't like any of this, so I asked Alice what your favorite food was, and she said you're a sucker for anything with mozzarella and tomato sauce, so I had Esme make something… I don't even know what it is, to be honest."

"Baked ziti," Esme told Bella, both of them sharing smiles over Edward's total lack of suave.

"Right, baked ziti. Is that okay?"

Bella put down her plate, and put her hands on Edward's shoulders. "Relax. Baked ziti sounds amazing; I haven't had that in years, and it was really sweet of you to think of me."

Edward exhaled. "I'm acting like a complete nutcase, aren't I?"

"Yes," Bella laughed. "But that's okay. I'm nervous too." She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow as she picked up her plate again. "By the way, happy birthday. Finally eighteen, hmmm?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, resuming making mountains of food on his plate. "Now I can be tried as an adult and buy cigarettes. Awesome."

"And buy porn," Bella reminded him, avoiding the eyes she felt on her face as soon as she said that.

After dinner, in which Bella had many dishes that she loved and didn't – macaroni and cheese with a cashew topping was delicious; sauerkraut and kielbasa made her want to hurl – they all settled in the living room, laughing and shoving and joking as Edward sat in the big chair with all his presents placed in front of him.

It was amusing, she remembered later, how eighteen-year-old men regress to toddlers when presented with brightly wrapped packages bought for the sole intent of making them happy.

Edward opened each with a smile she had rarely seen on his face. She wondered at that – she remembered Carlisle telling her how Edward didn't want to make himself feel any more ostracized than he already was. But as far as Bella knew, Edward's ostracisism was self-inflicted. He could be the most popular boy in school; he could have hordes of friends at his beck-and-call.

When Edward's fingers grazed the gift she brought for him, she leaned forward a little and listened to her heartbeat.

"And this is from Bella," Esme announced to the crowd of people and to Edward.

Bella held her breath as Edward's thin fingers pulled out the wads of tissue paper. He first took out their notebook, and she smiled shyly at him, knowing what was inside of it for his perusal. His eyes met hers across the living room, and he smiled at her, flashes of green underneath dark eyelashes. He set the notebook aside, and pulled out the rest.

"Bella," he breathed as her gift to him lay in his palms.

"I don't… I mean, I kind of went out on a limb, because you probably already have them, but I went to that art store in Port Angeles yesterday, and the lady said they were the best, and showed me some amazing paintings…"

"They're amazing," he said, still staring down at them. "Perfect. Thank you."

She had bought him _Winsor & Newton_ Gouache paints. The woman in the shop said they were some of the most unique paints around, and the best brand she had on hand. She had no clue whether Edward painted with them or not, but she felt the need to stick to his need of colors. She had bought him the ten paint introductory set, and it had run her almost one hundred dollars, but she barely even thought about it as she paid.

It was ridiculous and it was cliché, but the way he was looking at her made going broke until payday worth it.

Much later, face scrubbed clean and her holey pajama pants on, Bella sat talking to Carlisle in their family room as Bella waited for Alice to shower.

He inquired about how she was liking it at Esme's Interiors, and laughed heartily when she told him how Esme had told off the rude woman from Seattle. She thanked him for dinner and was just about to ask him about the bias of La Push, when she heard her name being called by a gruff voice.

She turned, and Edward was standing in the doorway, their notebook in hand. His hair was standing on end like he had tugged on it way too hard, and she flushed, realizing immediately that he had read her words.

"Can I borrow you?" he asked.

_You can have me,_ she thought but didn't say. She rose and bid Carlisle a good night, which he returned, sounding vaguely amused. She followed Edward up the stairs, trying not to watch his butt as he walked.

Trying and failing.

They turned into his room, and he shut the door behind them, the soft snick against the carpet ringing in her ears. She took a deep breath and looked up at him.

He looked furious.

"What in the hell are you playing at?"

Of all responses she considered, that was not one of them.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded, the ire in his voice making her back stiffen involuntarily.

He shook the notebook in her face. "This! This – this… this!" He wrenched it open and flew to the page, reading a sentence. _"You are flushed, embarrassment and desire, newness and nudity, strange foreign feelings that become familiar under fingers."_

"It's… I just… I was just writing!" She was so angry and embarrassed she was nearly purple. He wasn't supposed to be angry; he was supposed to sweep her up in his overwhelming passion, press her against his soft mattress and kiss until she couldn't breathe but didn't want to if that meant giving up his carbon dioxide –

"Just writing," he repeated, like that was the heart of the matter. "Don't toy with me, Bella – "

"You started it!" she nearly shrieked. She grabbed the notebook out of his hands and flipped it open to the page of his octopus drawing. "What is that? Is that just drawing?"

"It's a – it's a metaphor! I thought you, with your words, would understand – "

"I'm supposed to interpret a metaphor out of a picture of an octopus performing oral sex on a woman?"

"Yes!"

"I told you I'm not the analytical type! I see a pornographic picture, I think porn! Explain it to me, then, mister artist! What _was_ your metaphor?"

"It's… it's about _consumption – _being utterly, wholly, entirely consumed by something, by someone… and just… just wanting…"

"Wanting what?" she asked, watching him step towards her.

"Wanting what you can't have," he whispered. "An octopus obviously can't have a relationship with a human; they are much too different, completely different species… and…"

"Is that a caveat?" she asked, standing her ground, fists balled, the notebook forgotten on the floor between them. "I'm not afraid."

"Bella," he implored, also standing his ground. "I couldn't live with myself if I ever hurt you. You don't know how it's tortured me."

"With you," she said, desperate for him to understand something she didn't yet understand herself, "I feel infallible."

He stepped closer still, a hairsbreadth away. She could feel the warmth of his skin and longed to touch it against hers. "Nothing is infallible," he corrected her in a low voice, dangerous and pleading.

"I disagree."

He swallowed; she saw the bob of his Adam's apple against the smooth, pale throat. "You don't know anything."

Frustrated, she took a step back. "You, Edward Cullen, with your apparent wisdom, can tell me what I know? I don't think so." He didn't speak, she turned on her heel, desperate to leave.

"I killed my parents."

She stopped with her hand on the door. "What?"

She heard the bed sag, and when she turned, he was perched on the end, head in hands, Atlas defeated.

He spoke into his knees. "When I was seven, I was just learning that I could throw colors on a canvas and make them speak. I really liked the way candles looked while I was painting, the different shadows it cast – you know. I was using oil paints, and… I knocked over a candle into this big vat of blue paint, and it… it exploded. I was far enough away that the fire didn't touch me, but it touched the curtains… and suddenly, the whole house was…"

"Edward," she breathed, her heart scalded.

"It was late; I wasn't even supposed to be awake. My parents woke up, and I was teetering on the edge, this line of fire separating myself and the front door from my parents in the back of the apartment. I was screaming for them to come, but they just told me to run, to get out and save myself… so I did, and… I'm here. But they're not."

She sat down next to him, and he leaned into her, head into her chest, pain into her heart. She wrapped an arm around him, feeling for the best way to hold him – he was so much bigger than her – but he adjusted, and then they were on their backs, he curled up into her, and she was flying.

He breathed out heavily, the puff of air making its way through her thin tank top and onto the swell of her breast.

"Carlisle was there, at that hospital in Alaska," he said after a few moments of restful silence. "I was brought in for smoke inhalation as I waited for news on my parents – although I saw the death written on their faces as I ran from the apartment. He waited with me in my hospital room all night and all morning, and when the news came my parents had died, he held my hand and let me – let me cry…"

Her shirt felt mysteriously damp, and he sniffled once, but she ignored it, letting him have his dignity.

"Anyway, the next week was sort of a blur, because one day I was an orphan and the next I was Edward Cullen, instead of Masen."

"Why did you take Carlisle's name?" Bella wondered, smoothing down his wild hair that kept tickling her nose.

"I wanted to belong," he said. "He saved me, and gave me a sister and a brother… even though he was dealing with death of his wife, which had just happened – he has the biggest heart, and I wanted part of that."

"You are part of that," Bella insisted. "Everyone loves you so much."

His arm came to rest across her stomach; he yawned sleepily into her neck. "Everyone?"

With a shaky breath, she pressed her lips to his forehead.

She woke up the next morning slowly. Before she opened her eyes, she registered the sound of rain pounding against giant windows, and the sweet sound of a piano in the distance. She rolled over onto her back, comfortably swathed in heavy cotton sheets, her knees tangled up in the folds.

Then she sat up suddenly, her brain finally working out where she was. She drew the covers to her chest, looking around Edward's immaculate room. Shaking her head, she climbed out of the bed and padded down the hallway, searching for the source of the music.

She opened the door to Edward's studio, and he was there, hunched over his piano. His fingers pressed the keys in light strokes, and she watched him, shirtless and vulnerable, letting his secrets wash over her as last night came back to her in full force.

He was playing Yiruma's _River Flows In You_, achingly soft, afraid of happiness, hesitant to step forward. So she did, into the room, onto the bench. She leaned her head against his shoulder as he played, and it should have been uncomfortable, but being close to him never could be.

"Don't go away," he said as the song ended, turning to face her with eyes beseeching. "I feel like you're going to disappear."

"You're the one who left the bed," she countered, smiling. She wished she could remember what it felt like to sleep with him, if he had held her all night, or if he had turned away as soon as sleep overcame her.

"I didn't know how you would react," he said, returning her smile. "Waking up in a strange man's bed."

"You are not so strange. Don't flatter yourself."

He laughed.

"And besides," she continued. "There are worse things than waking up in a strange man's bed."

"For example?"

"Waking up in a strange man's bed _alone."_

The next time she woke up, several hours later, she didn't have to wonder if Edward had held onto her while she slept because she woke up in his arms.

When she left later that day, after Edward thanked her profusely for _everything_, a crisp white piece of paper was found in the front seat of her car.

_Be safe._


	11. A ThreeFold Utopian Dream

I'm still overwhelmed by all the response I'm getting. Thank you to everyone who has recommended, favorited, reviewed, alerted, etc. I'm apparently up for another award, with Bare, at the All-Human awards. Thank you for nominating me for 'Most In-Character.' Thanks to my Twilighted girls - my thread is getting very active, and I'm thrilled! Thank you to my four betas, windtrails, doitforyou, le moulin and vanilladoubleshot. You catch my errors and send me Rob pictures and make me laugh. I love you.

I keep getting asked what I am reading, and I share the same favorites as most of the fandom, I think. But I do enjoy a little (huge) story called **Age of Consent** by the extremely lovely** mylittl****esecret84**. I can't gush to her enough about how much I love it - try it on for size.

And lastly, I am now on twitter: .com/pinkeveningsky

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of these characters; I do it all for the nookie.

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**A Three-Fold Utopian Dream**

Bella tried to diplomatically look back on her life and find a time when she was happier. Her mother's camaraderie had been wonderful. Her school career, while boring, was educational and shaped her mind well. She had been a well-fed, carefree child, with a pink bicycle and jack-o-lantern teeth and a short-lived ballet career. She had laughed and loved and cried and lived a full life.

But as Bella walked into the Cullen household to help Esme with a dinner that would include Charlie that evening, she decided that this – this was the way to live. Sometimes she felt she would burst with happiness, and little pieces of contentment would rain down on those who were caught in the storm.

As she walked into the kitchen and spied Edward elbows-deep in flour, she knew who would take the brunt of the shower.

"What are you doing?" she laughed, shrugging off her raincoat and draping it across a chair.

"Thank God you're here," he said. "Esme has gone 'round the coo-coo's nest."

"I heard that!" trailed a feminine voice from inside a deep cupboard.

"She is insisting we make fresh pasta," Edward said grievously.

"I can't feed the Chief of Police pasta from a _box." _Esme made her way out of the cupboard, olive oil in hand. "Hi, sweet."

"Sure you can," Bella laughed. "I do it all the time."

Edward snorted. He was just about to make some sort of remark, Bella was sure, when Esme uttered a tiny curse word.

"Sugarfoot!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I knew I forgot something at the grocery store. Edward…"

"No."

"Oh, please! I just need lean ground beef for the sauce! Oh, and a couple other things, I know I have a list here somewhere…"

"No!"

Esme dropped her arms, walked over to Edward, and drew him into a hug. Bella could tell the exact moment Edward caved, because he both groaned and wrapped his arms around Esme. Then he backed away.

"I hate you."

"You are my favorite son," she told him with a smile. "Despite what Jasper and Emmett may think about themselves."

Bella smiled at the pink on the tip of Edward's ears. He tried not to look pleased. Then he rounded his stare onto her. "Come with me?"

She balked. "No, I really should be helping Esme. I promised – "

"Oh, I'm fine here, sweet." She had a very evil smile on her face.

"Bella?" Edward said, walking over to her slowly. "Come for me?"

She blamed writing that blasted erotica piece for their notebook on her filthy mind. She nearly dropped the spatula she was playing with. "Um, what?"

"Please, will you come? For me?"

_Clearly, it's not a good idea, if I can't keep my mind from construing the image of you asking me that in an entirely different situation – no, stop it, Bella! It was a perfectly innocent question – _

"Bella? Do you feel all right? You look flushed. Edward, maybe it isn't such a good idea – " Esme started.

"No, it's fine," Bella said quickly, desperate to get attention off her flaming cheeks, red as the label of the Coke on the counter. "Ready?"

"Ready," Edward acquiesced, smiling in a way that eighteen-year-old boys shouldn't know how to do.

"Oh my God, this isn't a little list! She's such a contriving – "

"Wonderful woman," Bella cut in, snatching the list from Edward's hands as they walked into Thriftway. The doors slid open and that strange grocery store smell hit her nostrils; the fluorescent lighting against the dark backdrop of the day's sky was enough to make her squint in distaste.

"There are like, ten things on that list! A couple things, my ass…"

"Hush," Bella told him. "I'm a professional at grocery shopping. Go get a cart."

She could sense a whine about to come from him, so she pointed sternly in the direction of the carts. He moved sulkily to get one, and she had to stop for a moment and wonder when she had gained the confidence to boss beautiful boys around.

As he walked back over to her, squeaky cart in tow, she mused that even though she still recognized he was clinically gorgeous, there were many more parts to him that made her stomach feel like it was about to leap out of her skin.

"Okay," said Bella, setting her purse in the front of the cart. "Ground beef. Rice. Two cucumbers. Velveeta. Corn tortilla chips. Edward, you're so whiny; this list is a piece of metaphorical cake…" She looked up at him, and he was staring down at her with a huge grin on his face. "Yes?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. You're just rather domesticated, aren't you?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"It's like that joke – you have tiny feet because it allows you to be closer to the stove."

He was very plainly teasing her; he had never shown any signs of chauvinism, and really, he was a very nice person, so why she allowed herself to be hurt by it, she didn't know.

When she didn't react, he stopped the cart. "Bella?"

"I'm domesticated, as you say, because I would have starved if I hadn't rounded up the groceries for Renee every week. She was so scatterbrained and involved in her own life, she often forgot to make a run to Wal-Mart. So, yes, I suppose I am domesticated." She crossed her arms over her shoulders, embarrassed at herself for feeling so vulnerably upset.

"Bella, I'm sorry." When she didn't say anything, he put his two warm palms on either side of her face. She turned up to look him in the eye, and she was met with blatant remorse. "Truly, I am."

"It was nothing," she insisted, staying still in his scrutiny. "Really, it's not even a big deal."

"You are utterly absurd," he whispered. "Anything that hurts you is a big deal. Please, I just… I'm not good at this. But I'm trying."

"Can I get through here?"

Bella and Edward jumped apart, startled. They had been blocking the opening of the aisle with their cart, and an annoyed man was waiting to enter, looking like he wanted to use his own cart to barrel them out of the way.

"We're sorry," Bella apologized, moving the cart out of his way, and then studiously examining the array of grape juice she was standing by. Her face was flaming, red and gold and orange, the color of Edward's canvas on an angry day.

She collected herself, and then turned to him with a smile. "Shall we?"

He returned her smile tentatively. "Lead the way."

They made their way through the aisles, remarking on particular foods they liked and didn't, reminiscing about the days finding something at the bottom of a cereal box was exciting, and just enjoying each other's company. She hadn't forgotten Edward's admission the week previously, when he had scalded her skin with hot tears and his own fire, burning deep in his gut. She knew there was more to him, even more than the death of his parents, but she was waiting for him, for that feather soft stroke to bring it forward.

He was brilliant – strong and funny, quiet and pensive and talented. Her heart was so thoroughly written all over him she didn't know where the sentences stopped and started, and he hadn't even kissed her yet.

"Oh, hell," Bella said, looking down at the list as they went through the frozen foods. "We forgot the Velveeta."

"Don't move," Edward said. "I'll go grab it."

"Thanks," Bella smiled. She watched him go, happiness bubbling up inside her. She turned back to the cart, looked up, and then looked back down again.

Lauren Mallory was standing at the other end of the aisle in shorts way too short for this weather, her keys in hand. She seemed to be surveying the selection of ice cream, and Bella prayed she was too captivated by dairy to notice her.

She could never forget the cruelty Lauren had shown her by stealing her note to Edward and dropping it in his locker. She had inadvertently caused the first fight between Bella and Edward, or at least triggered it, and she could feel her armpits prickle with adrenaline as her heartbeat kicked in. She had been so mortified, so terribly mortified –

"Well, well," she heard, and cursed. That voice was unmistakable. "Bella Swan."

Bella turned from the frozen pizzas, like she had only just noticed Lauren was there. "Oh, hello."

"How's your summer been?" Lauren asked, smiling without it meeting her eyes. "Written any more notes?" Then her eyes widened, fixing on a point behind Bella.

"Rather good ones," said a low voice. "Thank you for asking." A warm hand was on her back, long fingers trailing up her spine and then her hair was being moved off her shoulder, and hot, damp lips were on her neck.

Bella gripped the cart so tightly her knuckles were white.

"I see you two are _very_ happy," said Lauren, her voice dripping with disdain, jealousy white-hot.

"We are," said Bella, who finally got a hold of herself when she realized what Edward had done for her. She reached out his hand, and Edward's fingers met hers, and their fingers clasped together in the middle, sweet and simple, soft and subtle. "You actually did me a huge favor, that day. So, really, thank you."

Lauren scoffed, but Bella could barely hear it – she kept recalling the feel of Edward branding her with his lips, the first time she had had a mouth anywhere on her but her cheek, and oh my God, if he would only do that and mean it –

"We'll see you in September," Edward called as Lauren walked away.

As soon as Lauren was out of sight, Bella sagged. Edward caught her elbows with his hands.

"Thank you," she whispered, both for his actions and his words.

"Don't let anyone ever make you feel less than you are," he told her fiercely, replicating the exact sentence Esme had told her not even a month ago.

"I'm not good at this. But I'm trying," she said, repeating what Edward had said earlier.

He nodded and drew away. "Are you ready?"

She had the feeling he wasn't exactly asking about her being ready to leave. "Yes," she said plainly, answering whatever questions he was willing to ask.

Edward took Bella's hand again, and didn't let go.

XxXxX

"I never apologized for being so brash about your note," Edward said to her as they unloaded the groceries from his trunk. "It was a really lovely thing of you to do, but I completely misinterpreted it, even though I swore I didn't – "

"It's okay," she insisted, shutting the trunk. "It was really naïve of me to word it that way. I'm not used to having to construct my thoughts so carefully. When I write, it's all very intrinsic – as you know by now – and sometimes I forget that other people read what I'm writing."

As they walked up the porch steps, Edward was quiet. But as she put her hand on the doorknob, he said, "Don't ever stop doing that. Forgetting, I mean. You should never censor who you are. Because… you are captivating, intrinsically and otherwise."

He opened the door for her, and she went inside, barely feeling her feet on the floor. If asked, she would swear she was floating.

The next two hours, Bella helped Esme make spaghetti Bolognese while Edward sat at the bar and supervised. By supervised, she meant he ate nearly everything edible in his proximity and threw in a lot of asinine comments, but he had she and Esme laughing so hard at some points, they could barely boil water.

The others floated in occasionally. Alice and Jasper came in with clasped hands, wondering what smelled so good and why Bella had a flour handprint on her forehead. The culprit was obvious; Edward had a flour-covered hand. Rosalie came in and tied Bella's long hair back off her face and ran her long nails against Bella's scalp for a few moments before heading off to work. Emmett dipped his huge finger right in the middle of the sauce, which caused Bella to whack him with the ladle, setting off bouts of laughter from everyone around.

The doorbell rang at seven, announcing Charlie's arrival. Esme ran to answer it as Bella and Edward set the table.

She was about to say something when she noticed the slight way Edward's fingers shook as he set the fork next to the knife on the linen napkin.

"Are you nervous?" she laughed, delighted.

"He's the Chief of Police!"

Bella laughed even louder. "Oh my God! You _are_ nervous. You've met him before, remember?"

"Yes, but – "

She put her hand on his bare forearm. "You met him right after you _saved my life._ Well, the first time you saved my life."

"I didn't – "

"Tyler's van of doom screeching across the asphalt?"

"I was simply at the right place at the right time – "

"Saving me from that man who cornered me in Port Angeles – "

"Again, all circumstantial – "

"Edward," she said sternly, pointing a butter knife at him. "I won't have you trivializing the fact that I'm here – happy and healthy – because of you. Stop insulting my best friend."

"I thought Alice was your best friend."

"Alice and I have a much different relationship than you and I. Yes, she's my best friend. But you and I have a closeness that I can't compare to anyone else. So, I think best friend covers it pretty accurately."

He glowed, the gold ring around his irises contracting as his pupils dilated. "I've never had a best friend."

"Well, then let me give you some pointers," she said playfully, poking him with the knife. "Best friends tend to get angry when you insult their other half."

"I like the sound of that better."

"What?"

"Other half. It eliminates that pesky 'friend' word very nicely."

Bella ducked her head to hide her smile. She had no idea how to respond, so she was very grateful when Charlie, Carlisle and Esme walked in.

As dinner wrapped up, Charlie patted his full belly and smiled warmly down at Bella. Her father was not an affectionate man, but she couldn't help but glow under his brand of it – she was secretly a daddy's girl, and being away from him for years only amplified that.

"So, are you gonna hang out a bit longer, Bell? Or follow me home?"

Bella bit her lip, swishing her piece of bread in and out of the oil dip. She wanted to stay the night more than anything; the looks Edward had been giving her all day were driving her dizzy and she wanted nothing more than to wrap herself up in his arms and fall asleep to the sound of his breath in her ear.

"She's welcome to stay the night, Charlie," Carlisle put in, rubbing his wife's hand with his thumb. "I'm sure Alice would love that."

"Alice," Charlie repeated, glancing towards Edward.

"_Dad,"_ Bella chastised.

Charlie held up his hand to Bella, and then leveled a stare at the good doctor. "May I be frank, Carlisle?"

"Please," agreed Carlisle, setting his napkin down on his plate like he knew what was about to come.

"I'm a little weary about letting Bella stay the night here. I was young once, not real long ago, and… well, I have a lot of respect for you and your family, but your living arrangements are a bit… different, and I don't want my seventeen-year-old daughter sleeping in a bed that's occupied by a seventeen-year-old male. I'm just not comfortable."

"I completely understand your concern, Chief – "

"It's Charlie."

Carlisle smiled. "Charlie. I know our lifestyle is a bit strange, especially to those who don't see what goes on here on a day-to-day basis. But, I also have a seventeen-year-old daughter, and even though her boyfriend lives under my roof, it doesn't mean we turn into a brothel when the sun goes down."

Charlie chuckled despite himself. "I didn't mean – "

"I know you didn't. Just a little joke. We have very firm rules. What they do on their own time, away from my house, is not regulated – much like you can't regulate Bella when she is not under your supervision – but when it's under my roof, each of my children have their own rooms and beds, and that is where they sleep each night."

Charlie nodded slowly. "I meant no disrespect."

"None taken. We all care for Bella, my wife and I included, and I treat her as one of my own. She will, of course, sleep with Alice, or in one of the spare bedrooms, as she always does. If you are still uncomfortable with that – "

Charlie held up his hand again. "Say no more. Thank you for… explaining that to me."

"You had every right to be concerned. I'm glad to hear it. Thank you for being so candid." Carlisle smiled. "Now, if that's all… I think Bella and Esme prepared a cheesecake? Would you like coffee, Charlie?"

Bella's smile was so large it was painful. She _loved_ these people, every single one of them. Her heart was so full of adoration she felt it would burst. She locked eyes with Edward from across the table, and he made a motion with his hands that meant 'phone' – thumb to the ear, pinky to the mouth.

She grabbed her cell phone out of her cardigan pocket, saw she had a text from Edward, and flipped it open.

_How does it feel to know that Carlisle just lied to an officer?_

Bella spent a few hours with Alice, talking and laughing about things that had transpired over the summer. She had been so wrapped up in Edward lately, she almost had forgotten the importance of girl time. Alice brushed out Bella's long hair, making it shine in understated waves down her back. Bella told her about her childhood in Phoenix, and Alice told Bella about her dream job: fashion journalism.

As the hour crept towards eleven, Alice began to yawn in great gasps of air that set off giggles between the girls. Her eyes kept straying towards the door, and Bella knew Alice was ready to go lay down next to her mate.

"Go to him," Bella said, squeezing Alice's hand.

"Go to him," Alice repeated to Bella, tugging on her hair.

Bella sucked in a huge gulp of air, and then did just that.

She found him by the music, the straining lilt of piano notes hitting her eardrums, soft and butter yellow, clear and sky blue. She followed the sound into his studio, where he sat at the piano bench, a pencil between his teeth and an open book in front of him, perched on the piano.

"Do you sing, too?" she teased softly.

He turned around, smiling around the pencil. He took it slowly out of his lips, and she watched, transfixed, hypnotized, alive. "Why do you ask that?"

"You do everything else artistically. Write some, paint some, draw some, play piano some, write music some, apparently… it would just figure if you could sing."

He shook his head. "I can't sing at all."

"Not at all?"

"Isn't it tragic?" he joked. "The musician who can hear exactly how terrible he is."

"It isn't tragic at all," she told him. "Here I was, feeling hopelessly inadequate. It's nice to know you're human once in a while."

"It's nice of you to remind me." He stood up from the bench and stretched. His shirt came up, exposing a strip of ivory skin, with a faint dark strip running from navel to under his waistband.

"Alice has retired for the evening," she told him. "And I find myself lonely."

"Are you begging me for company? Is that what I am now? Cheap entertainment?"

"_Free_ entertainment," she corrected.

He made a face at her, which she returned. It might have been ferocious, but she was smiling too much. He held out his hand to her, and she took it, feeling the thick pads of skin on his fingers and palms, armor against his art.

"Shall we, then?"

Just walking with his hand in hers made her light-headed; it was nefarious how much power he held over her, extreme in its intensity, crushing in its weight.

He led her into his room and closed the door behind them. He didn't immediately reach to turn on the light; everything was quiet, and all she could hear was the sound of their rapid breathing and the beating of her heart. Then he crept towards her, loping grace carrying his weight.

"Paint me."

The words were out of her mouth before she had registered her brain firing up. His progression stopped, and he turned slightly away from her.

"I can't, Bella."

"Yes, you can. I want you to."

"You _don't_ understand. I'm cursed, Bella, completely – "

"I know, I know you think you're taking my soul, but you – you have everything else of mine, so you may as well just take it and wear it on your sleeve, like I wear my heart, every time you walk in the room – "

"I don't have everything of yours."

"You can have that, too."

Their eyes met in the darkness.

"Do you have any idea what you're saying?"

"None," she whispered, and then he was to her, suddenly, all there, his hands against her back, trailing up her spine, gently cupping her neck, and –

And nothing. He was away again, too far, when everything in her was crying out for him, red and passionate, pink and virginal, green and organic.

"Bella, I adore you in frightening ways." His voice was low, rough, black. "I'm doing everything I can not to destroy you. Please stop making it difficult for me."

"What's destroying me right now is the fact you aren't kissing me."

She watched him press the heels of his hands to his eyes, and she was suddenly enraged. She threw up her hands and stalked over to his paints, opening the already mixed Tupperware containers.

"So you think I'm too stupid to know what it is I want? Too naïve to see who you really are, and still care for you? Is that it?"

"Don't be melodramatic, please."

She found the black paint and dipped her fingers in it, all ten, and then raked them across her cheeks. She knew she looked like some crude interpretation of a warrior, or maybe just a football player, but when she turned to him with the colors on her face – the red flush of her cheeks and the black smears of paint – she put it on a level he could understand.

"I am stronger than a canvas to be painted," she told him, "thicker skinned than a flimsy sheet of paper to be shaded. You draw me pictures of myself, always interpreting my beauty as something reverential, something to be… cherished. When I look at you, I don't see what you're afraid of – the ghosts in your past. I see you, and how much I want you all the time, and how I'll die if you don't kiss me, right now."

As her last words came out, he was already walking to her, and by the time she was finished, she barely had another breath to take before his lips were on hers, taking her first kiss, solidifying her love.

It was so sweet and achingly gentle she felt it down to the spongy marrow in her bones. His hands came up to cup her face, and he held her steady, even as she wanted to lie down with him and give in to the weakness in her knees, the weighted pull in her stomach. She felt hot air on her face as his breath hitched, and she pressed closer, knowing she was smearing the black paint all over his face, making him stronger, too.

When he backed away, their lips breaking with a sweet sigh that left her mouth, he put their foreheads together, breathing heavily.

"I can't paint you, Bella," were his first words on heavily bated breath.

She pressed forward again, flying on impulse, knowing her kissing skills were lacking because she had no idea where she was going or what she was doing, except that her lips were against his again, different this time, because she had caught him while his mouth was open, and she drew in his bottom lip, and he made a quiet, desperate noise in his throat, and she made one back, and she wanted to hear it over and over and over –

"Paint on me, then," she said suddenly, between short, plucking pulls of lips. "If you can't paint me, then paint on me. Make me into something beautiful – use me as your canvas, make me into your creation, make me _yours – "_

"_Bella," _he complained in a groan, wrapping his hands in her hair. _"Stop."_

"Say yes," she begged. "I have to have some part of you, something – "

"You silly girl, you have my heart; is that not enough?"

She pressed her face into his chest, feeling the organ he had just proclaimed as hers beat against her cheek. "I'm afraid it never will be enough with you. I'm afraid I'll keep wanting things, and one day, you'll tell me no and I won't know what to do."

"Have you not discovered that I can't say no to you? I hate denying you of anything. Don't use that to your advantage, please."

"Can I get that in writing?" she asked, and she felt his laugh rumble through his lungs, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight, and she had never been happier.

He breathed in a couple times, and then he asked, "Where? If I paint on you…"

She thought for a moment. "Anywhere. Somewhere on my back, maybe?"

He drew back from her, looking her in the eye. "But for that, you would have to be…"

She nodded. "Bare."


	12. Consumed With What's To Transpire

I know some of you have already read this - my thread ladies had this sent to them in an email, and it was already posted on Twilighted. Here it is for the rest of you.

I just have to thank my four amazingly talented betas who sometimes miss errors do to their unfortunate drinking binges. ;) Thank you to all who voted for me in the Indie Twific Awards - I won two! Most Romantic Moment WIP and Best Non E/B Characterizations WIP. Also, a member on Twilighted informed me that Bare was a topic of discussion at a Twicon FF workshop. That is amazing and humbling.

I have a rec for this week - **Ars Moriendi** by my sweet friendand beta** vanilladoubleshot.** Her writing is superb. She won an award of merit at the Indie's, so it's not just me who feels this way!

**Disclaimer:** You people own me. I own nothing.

* * *

**Consumed With What's To Transpire**

"What do you think about a burnt red for the walls?"

Bella looked up, her pen falling against the crinkled notebook paper. "Are you redecorating?"

Esme stood, hands on hips, staring at the cream-colored walls. "Yes. I can't run an interior design business and let my customers see the same decorations year after year, now can I?"

Bella smiled. "Perish the thought."

"My sentiments exactly. Writing to my son again, hmmm?"

Bella laid her elbows across the notebook. "What? No."

"What is it, then?" Esme moved across to Bella's desk, her eyes scanning the few words she could see. _"'I don't think I will ever forget the sense of exhausted completion I felt that night.'"_

Bella groaned. "That is… it's so not what it sounds like."

Esme smiled like the Cheshire cat. "No?"

"No. And I meant to ask you… why did Carlisle lie to Charlie? Not that, it's, you know, my business…"

Esme sighed. "He didn't lie, sweet. Those rules _are_ in place. We just realize that everyone in the house, aside from Alice, is an adult – plus, Jasper, Rosalie and Emmett are all moving out in two months' time. Everyone is safe – using protection – and any… promiscuity is because of love. We don't want to cause World War Three in our house by keeping them apart. We just conveniently turn our heads after bedtime, and as long as the kids are in their respective beds by morning… we don't say a word."

"But I've woken up in Edward's room twice. Should I have gone to a guest room? I didn't know."

Esme looked thoughtful. "I don't want to imply that there is any favoritism in the house, but Edward is such a delicate creature. We haven't seen him so… vibrant, alive, smiling, any adjective that reflects happiness… since you arrived. Carlisle and I are weary of taking away that happiness."

Bella couldn't help but flush pink with delight. "He makes me happy, too."

Esme smiled very kindly. "I know he does. And I didn't mean to embarrass you; I just know the nature of that notebook. You should see the way Edward is protective over it. He cares very deeply for you, Bella."

Bella nodded slowly. "I think I would like to hear that from him first."

"And you will." She clapped her hands together. "Now. Burnt red? It's going to be an all-day project on Sunday. The whole family is coming to help, and don't think you're exempt."

Bella nodded, excited at the chance to spend time with the whole Cullen-Hale family. Esme floated back into her office and shut the door with a soft snick. Bella looked back down at the red spiral notebook, and read over what she had written so far.

_The first thing I remember about waking up that morning is the way our feet were interlocked at the edge of the bed. You were still asleep, arm thrown across your face as soft snuffles entered your nose and exited your mouth. Your hair fanned across the pillow in strange spikes and waves, and your eyes were soft at the corners. The second thing I remember was that you had kissed me, over and over, and that we had tripped over each other into your bed, where you kissed me some more, making my toes curl in its sweetness. You took my first kiss; I gave you my first kiss. It was submission and dominance. Compliance and control. And it was beautiful. _

_I don't think I will ever forget the sense of exhausted completion I felt that night._

_You never said yes or no about painting on me, but the desperation behind the presses of your mouth felt like a surrender. _

That night, Bella was enjoying a phone conversation with Angela. She hadn't spoken to her since graduation, and she had missed her sweet friend.

"Bella, you should have _seen_ the apartment Ben has in the city. When I got home, I think I exfoliated my body three times. I wanted to bathe in Germex."

Bella laughed. "You're the nicest person I know, so if you're saying it like _that,_ it must be horrifying."

"I just don't understand how boys can live in filth. I offered to help him scrub the floors and walls, and he just looked at me like, 'why?'" Angela groaned. "I told him if he ever wanted me to visit, he'd buy stock in Febreze."

Bella was about to reply when a faint click sounded against her window. Puzzled, she turned to look at it. No one was there, and there was no wind. Shaking her head, she continued. "You should see Edward's room. I think he's a bit anal-retentive."

"How is that going, by the way?" Before Bella could answer, Angela clucked her tongue. "Edward Cullen – I can't really believe it, to be honest. Not that you aren't amazing, Bella, but he's never… and then he was so rude to you. It's mind-boggling."

"It's – I know. I think I'm still in shock. He's… he's really… I can't describe him without sounding like a clichéd romance novel. He's something. He's really… he's something. I – "

She heard the click again, and this time, she stood up and walked over to the window.

"Have you two… I mean, done anything?"

"Not really," said Bella, peering out of the window. "We – Edward!"

"No, Bella, I'm Angela."

"No, no! I know. But Edward – he was throwing rocks at my window. What do I do?"

"Let him in!"

"Charlie would have a myocardial infarction – "

"Do you have a trellis?"

"I have a tree."

"Use it. Bye, Bella."

"Wait – "

The other girl clicked off the phone, and Bella sighed. Throwing down her cell phone on the bed, she turned back to the window with her hands on her hips. Another pebble hit the pane, so she wrenched it open and hung out.

"Edward," she whispered loudly. "What are you doing?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets, blue and green and gold shadows against the lush front lawn during twilight. "Hello."

She sighed. "You shouldn't be here!"

"I just wanted to see you. I thought…"

"You can't just throw pebbles at my window like this is Romeo and Juliet."

"I know. This was stupid. I'm sorry."

Bella could not register exactly why she was annoyed, but she was. She supposed her girlish side should find the gesture romantic – apparently Angela thought it was – but she refused to have some sort of tawdry affair with boys sneaking into her window and not going up to the door and introducing themselves properly. She just wasn't that sort of girl.

She bit her lip. "Did you need something in particular? You could have called."

"I've had a rough day. I thought… nevermind. This was a bad idea. I'm sorry I bothered you, Bella. Have a good night." He turned, his shoulders in towards his body.

"Edward," Bella hissed, her mood deflating from red to sorrowful yellow. "Edward!"

But he couldn't hear her, or at least didn't want to. He climbed back into his car and squealed his tires as he reversed out of her driveway.

Bella slumped back on her bed, unsure of her sudden bout of melancholy and why she had lashed out at Edward. She was, of course, happy to see him. Maybe she was afraid of just how happy she was. She picked up her phone and called him, but he didn't answer.

It didn't take her longer than five minutes to change, throw on some shoes, and sprint down to her truck, throwing an excuse to Charlie. Her truck thrummed to life, and she backed away, her truck tires also peeling out.

Her phone buzzed not ten seconds later.

"Bella, what is going on? I can't believe my daughter just peeled out of here like that. I thought she would know better."

Bella sighed loudly. "I'm sorry, Dad. It's a bit of an emergency."

"Can I help?"

"No. Thank you. I'll be home later, okay?"

"No later than one, Bella."

Bella agreed, threw her phone in the passenger seat, and sped towards the Cullen house.

Jasper let her inside, looking baffled at her harried expression.

"What's the rush, fair Bella?"

"Where's Edward?"

A crash and then angry piano playing answered that question. Jasper nodded towards the stairs, and Bella ran up them, two at a time, and threw open the door to his studio.

The canvas that had been so carefully covered was now lying on the floor against a wall, like he had thrown it against something. His fingers pounded the keys, red hot and scorching blue. She recognized the tune, _The Blower's Daughter,_ but that hardly mattered. All she could see was the tense, taut lines of his shoulders and the bone white knuckles and she was moving to him, unafraid of his hurricane.

"Don't touch me," he rasped, his fingers never ceasing. "I give you everything, everything, and you shut me down, out, away…"

"Now you know how it feels," she said bitterly. "I'm here now."

"I don't need you anymore."

"That's a lie."

"Fuck you, Bella."

She sucked in a breath. She had not realized the enormity of his anguish. Instead of letting the words he didn't mean anger her, she allowed them to anchor her.

"You're right. I'm totally fucked. But I'm also not going anywhere. I'll be with… I don't know. Whoever does want me around right now. But I'm not leaving. Find me when you are ready."

"I don't want you."

She grabbed his chin and yanked him around to meet her stare. "You think you are a big, bad wolf and when you throw a tantrum, I will just cower. I'm not afraid of you. I continue to tell you this. Find me when you are acting like an adult. I'm sorry for hurting you. I forgive you for speaking to me like that. See you soon."

He did not come to her after his piano playing stopped. He did not come to her when she heard his door open from Alice's room, her head automatically tipping for the sound of his apology. He did not come to her after she heard him walk back up the stairs, and he did not come to her after he retired to his room.

Alice tried to distract her, and it almost worked.

"Let me straighten your hair, Bella. It's a bit frizzy from the rain."

Thankful for the distraction, Bella agreed. Alice had left her flat iron in Edward's bathroom, since his was the only bathroom with tons of space. She stood to go get it, glaring at Edward's closed bedroom door. When she got to the bathroom, a light was on, and she knocked, but no one answered. She went in, and the shower was running, making the room steamy and hot.

A thin film covered her skin as she rummaged through Edward's cabinets, trying to be as quiet as possible, so he wouldn't hear her. She had just closed her hand on the flat iron when the shower stopped and the curtain whipped back.

Bella fell backwards, flat on her ass, and she closed her eyes tightly.

"What the – "

"I'm sorry, Alice had me get this – I was trying to be quick – " She opened her eyes slowly, and she was thankful he had a towel held around his thin hips, because if he was naked, she would… she would…

He was slim and trim, but not necessarily muscular. His arms had the typical male bicep – were all men just born with good arms? – and his stomach was flat and curved in to the feminine jut of his hipbones. She stood up slowly, as not to startle him, and started on her way out.

But then she turned back to him, and his eyes were on her, green as go. She put down her flat iron, walked over to him, and kissed him.

He expelled a hard breath against her mouth before complying, his fingers ghosting the soft skin under her eyes to the pulse point at her neck. The warmth and smell of his newly washed skin called to her, and she pressed forward against his body, and his groan was barely muted against her lips.

Then she backed away, shook her head, grabbed the flat iron again, and left.

At twelve-thirty, Bella emerged from Alice's room, still giggling from the camaraderie between she and Jasper. They moved around each other and complemented each other and tormented each other and were made for each other. She pulled Alice's door closed with a wave, and stepped out into the hallway.

While pulling on her coat, she happened to glance down at the floor.

A yellow origami swan sat on the hardwood floor in front of Edward's studio, waiting for Bella. She picked it up delicately and cradled it in her palm before taking a deep breath of clear blue air and pushed open the door of his studio.

He sat perched on his piano bench, elbows on the keys and head in his hands. He was shirtless with dark Levis on his hips and bare feet. His usual mass of copper-colored hair was stuffed into a black beanie, and a still smoking blunt was tipped into an ashtray.

He looked up and around as Bella entered quietly, the swan still in her hands. "Thank you," she said softly, gesturing to the paper bird.

"Bella," he lamented, and she nearly flew over to him, powerless.

He rested his head against her stomach, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and scratched the back of his head through his hat. He sighed, and the warmth of his breath pressed through the cotton of her shirt and onto her skin.

"I'm so terribly sorry," he murmured. She could feel his lips move against her, and she swallowed hard. "Regardless of whatever I'm going through, there's no excuse for how I behaved. Sometimes, I feel… rather animalistic and raw."

"I am sorry for your pain," she told him, drawing back so she could sit next to him on the bench, his equal. "And I'm sorry for turning you away. I shouldn't have. I don't know what came over me."

He shook his head. "I _was_ going to come to the door. But when I looked up, I saw you talking on the phone, laughing, and it was… I've never experienced anything like that."

"Were you jealous?"

He took in a deep breath. "I'm not sure. Seeing you laughing and enjoying yourself, maybe telling someone some of your secrets, things I don't know yet… something strange welled up inside me. I had to get your attention as soon as possible."

She nodded, standing up to go. "I'm sorry, but… I have a curfew…"

He looked down. "Bella, I am sorry. You came here to see me, and I have wasted your precious time nursing my pride. I promise not to do that again."

She put her hand on the crown of his head. "I forgive you. Truly."

He took her hand from his head and put it to his lips. "May I kiss you, Isabella?" he murmured against her fingers.

"Yes," she whispered, and he stood, towering over her.

"You are an amazing creature," he told her, and then said so with his pulls and pushes of lips.

Dizzy with want, she backed away. "I really have to go. I'm going to be late."

He valiantly tried to mask his disappointment. "I will walk you to your car."

She nodded, and then stopped him. Grinning, she asked, "How do you feel about climbing trees?"

An hour later, Bella was hanging out of her window, gasping and cringing as Edward tried to maneuver himself up the ancient tree outside of her window.

"Put your foot on that branch… no, your other foot! Okay, now – watch it! God, this is giving me a heart attack – "

"Bella. Your commentary is making everything worse. Go sit down. I'll be up in a second."

"But, what if – "

"If you hear a loud thud, call nine-one-one. Otherwise, go sit."

She did so, nervously twisting her fingers as she heard the snapping of branches and crunching of leaves. Sooner than she expected, Edward was hauling himself up into her room, first his torso, then his whole body balancing on the sill, and then he was in, brushing off nature.

"That was terrifying," she commented from her seat on the bed.

He rolled his eyes. "For you."

Then silence perfumed the room as they tried to look at anything besides the other. It was easier for Edward; he had never been in her room, so he shrugged out of his jacket and moved around.

She was not embarrassed by her modest lifestyle, even after seeing the immaculate wealth Edward's room encompassed. Her room was clean but cluttered, littered with things that didn't match and scattered with bits and pieces of her childhood.

"Is this you?" Edward asked quietly, picking up a dusty frame from her chest of drawers.

Bella leaned so she could see the picture. "Yes, that's seven-year-old me and my crazy mother."

"She's lovely. You resemble her quite a bit."

"A bit. I have her bone structure, but my dark hair and eyes is all Charlie." She sighed, dropping her chin to her bent knees. "I miss her. I really do."

He nodded. "Do you keep in touch?"

"Oh, yes, regularly. She is just busy on the road."

"With Phil?"

She smiled, pleased he remembered the inconsequential detail from the notebook. "Yes. But I am happy for her, regardless."

He put down the picture and moved over to her bookshelf. "Do you think she would extend the same courtesy to you? That she would be happy for you, whomever or whatever you chose?"

She shrugged. "I'm sure she would, as long as I was happy."

He turned to Bella. "You told Esme I make you happy."

She reached out her hand for his. He took it immediately, wrapping his long fingers around her fingers intimately. "You do make me happy. I thought that was painfully obvious."

"How could I? I was so cruel to you, _so_ afraid to get close to you…"

"You've made up for all of that. You are close to me. Closer than anyone else. Edward…"

"Yes?"

"Well, for one, sit down. Your hovering makes me nervous."

He smiled a bit and sat down on the bed next to her, the mattress shifting with his weight.

"Why were you so cruel to me? Did you really think… that I was ugly?"

He considered for a minute, scratching his head up under his beanie. "No, I never found you ugly, Bella. Was I hopelessly attracted to you the moment I laid eyes on you? No. Nor the second time, or third… don't get me wrong. I find you… well, let's just say you are more than attractive to me, now. But that has a lot to do with this." He placed a warm palm just above her left breast.

"My heart?"

"You are a fiery, smart, passionate, exceptionally kind woman. It's not that you aren't beautiful, Bella. You have… well, you just are. But I wasn't attracted to you until I knew you. I told you the picture I drew had very little how I perceived you and more of how you perceived yourself. And I treated you cruelly because Alice suggested I paint you, and you _know_ how I feel about painting people – "

She placed a hand over his mouth. "You don't need to say anymore."

The rest of the night was full of laughter and whispered words, desirous kisses and the biggest realization Bella had ever faced.

When Edward left at dawn, she watched him go down the tree, knowing she was irrevocably in love with him.

The next morning, Bella yawned sleepily as she opened the door to Esme's Interiors. It was Sunday, and she had promised to help with the painting process.

"Good morning, Bella," Carlisle said as she stepped inside, the most casual she had ever seen him.

"Morning," she replied, taking in his jeans and white t-shirt. She had never found a forty-something man so unbelievably attractive.

"Doughnuts? Coffee?"

"Oh, both, please," she agreed, moving over the little table set up with breakfast foods. She waved hello to Alice and Jasper, and laughed with Rosalie – Emmett had fallen asleep against her shoulder, snoring loudly.

She was grabbing a danish off the table when she felt a warm kiss being pressed to the top of her head. She closed her eyes, using her other senses to locate the man behind her. He smelled like a day-old shower and weed, but it was _him._

"Hello," she said, unable to keep the smile off her face as she turned to look at him. He was in the same clothes he had been in when he left her house about four hours ago. "Sleep well?"

He smiled at her, stretching the dark circles under his eyes, purple and black and hers. "I don't think I've ever had such fine compensation for not sleeping. You?"

"Couldn't sleep either, this moody painter kept me up all hours of the night…" She shrieked as he dug two fingers into her ribs, tickling her and making her tip her glass of orange juice.

"I haven't had enough coffee to watch this," Emmett groaned from the corner. "Get a room."

"How does yours sound?" Bella shot back, making Edward cackle in her ear and the rest of the family shout in surprised laughter. "I'm kidding. It's nice to see you finally awake, but Rosalie's shoulder does look like a rather comfy pillow…"

"Other parts of Rosalie are much comfier," Emmett dead-panned.

"I haven't had enough coffee to hear this," Bella mocked.

"Oh, Bella! Thank you so much for coming, sweet." Esme walked out of her office and gave her a soft hug. "You agreed with such a whole heart. My loving family here, I had to bribe with breakfast pastries."

Thirty minutes later, Bella was rolling burnt red paint on the walls, her arms already exhausted. "Is this all Esme is doing? Just burnt red?"

Alice shook her head, somehow managing to look adorable this early in the morning in her purple tank top. "Edward agreed to paint some sort of design on the walls, I think. Some sort of flowers in each corner."

"Is that why Edward is just lounging around while the plebeians do all the hard work?" Bella asked, raising her voice purposely.

"Problem?" Edward called, picking apart a doughnut with his long fingers, eating it slowly.

"Just wondering why the best painter in the group is not adding his expertise."

He waggled his ten fingers at her. "I have to rest them. For later." He gave her a very evil smile that caused her to flush the color of the walls.

"Oh, Bella," Alice giggled as they continued painting. "I'm so happy for you."

"I would say thank you, but your brother may be more trouble than he is worth," Bella continued.

Alice shook her head, laughing. "My side is done. Do you need help?"

"No, I'm good. Go help the rest of them in the lobby. I'll be finished soon."

Almost as soon as the door snicked shut, Bella felt something cold and wet along her neck. Shrieking, she turned around, only to cause the paint-laden brush Edward was holding to whip across her face.

"You, you…"

"I painted on you, Bella. Isn't that what you wanted?" His eyes held hers, twinkling green lights of Christmas.

Bella took the roller she was holding and rolled paint all down the front of him, forehead to the waist of his jeans.

He looked completely baffled at the idea of revenge. "You did not."

"I think… wait, yes, you are covered in latex paint right now. So yes, I did."

Edward grabbed her wrist, and then the other, and backed her up against the still-wet wall. "More trouble than I am worth, hmmm?"

"Entirely," she breathed as he pressed his whole body against hers, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, foot to foot.

He kissed the side of her neck not covered in paint. She made a very embarrassing noise. He had not ever kissed her without the sweet, gentle undertone of his heart – but now, his open mouth against her skin was more… more…

And then his mouth was against hers, taking her lips and making them his own. She breathed out heavily against his mouth, and he took her carbon dioxide and made it his oxygen.

"Edward, I don't – I don't know what I'm doing…"

"I don't either," he whispered, sucking her bottom lip in between his teeth and biting down softly.

"But, I thought – " she whimpered.

"It wasn't… it's never been like this," he answered her. "I can't get enough of you. I feel crazy when I'm around you, all different colors, shapes, sizes, patterns, motifs, themes, but it all makes sense in the end, and I just…"

She pressed her lips to his this time, kissing him. "I told you. I told you. I want to be written all over you. I want… I don't know… I want – "

He moved down to her chin, to her throat and the vein there, pumping wildly, her love and desire for him floating throughout her body, leaving not one crevice unfilled.

"I want _you,"_ she finally settled on, and his breath hitched, and he pressed his pelvis against her, showing her that he, too, wanted her.

"You make me insane," he whispered, and all these new things were swirling around inside of her, making her realize her complete power in her femininity. "Oh, my God, the wall – " He finally came to his senses, and peeled her away from the wall.

A very easily distinguishable print of her body was visible.

"Edward," she said, annoyed. "I just finished that! Here – " she said, shoving the roller at him she had never put down. But he backed away, laughing.

"I _told_ you, Bella. I can't." He once again brandished his fingers. "I have to save these for later."

She stomped her foot at him, but started the process of painting that spot all over again, her body begging him to tease her no longer.


	13. The Girl Who Came To Stay

Thank you to everyone - my betas, my reviewers, my recommenders, my story alerters, the girls at the gazebo. Please excuse any typos - they are all my fault, as it is very late, and my betas said 'f you' and went to bed like a normal person should.

Enjoy the longest chapter to date. It starts to earn its 'M' rating this chapter.

**Disclaimer: **Nothing is mine. My heart is yours.

* * *

**The Girl Who Came To Stay**

"We aren't making _mutant_ cookies, Alice!" Bella snatched the giant ball of dough from the other girl's hand, laughing. "Here. Separate that into at least three different pieces, and then roll them again."

"I think I'm kitchen-challenged," Alice groaned. "I'm really glad you invited me over."

Bella and Alice stood in Bella's small kitchen with Alice's mp3 player and dock hooked up. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and Charlie was at work, and Bella had been bored out of her mind. On a whim, she felt like baking, but didn't feel like being alone. Alice was the solution.

"I'm glad, too," Bella said, checking the oven to see if the 'oven heating' light had popped off yet. It hadn't. "I feel like with everything, we have not seen much of each other, and I miss you."

Alice, whose hair was pinned back from her face in dozens of pink bobby pins, smiled warmly at her from the sink, where she was washing her hands. "Oh, Bella. I miss you, too. This summer is just so…"

"Tumultuous," Bella finished, but on the inside she thought _everything._

"I can hardly stand to let Jasper out of my sight," Alice continued, drying her hands on a paper towel. "Which is just counter-productive, I think. I don't know."

"It will be great for you two, though, to finally be able to spend some alone time… _alone._ You know? To actually be in an adult relationship." Bella finally saw the oven light click off, so she opened it up and popped in the cookie sheet full of sweet dough.

Alice was quiet for a moment. "Bella, can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything."

"You are probably one of the happiest, most confident people I've met, and yet you deal with my insecure, moody brother. How do you do it?"

Bella scrunched her eyebrows together, and turned to look at Alice. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel before answering. "First of all, I wouldn't necessarily consider myself confident – just resigned." She grinned. "I think I feel sorry for extremely beautiful people, to be honest. To wake up each morning, look in the mirror and try to outdo themselves each day. 'How can I wear my hair today?' 'Will there be a new girl at work or school who is prettier than me?' I know I will never be that girl, on the top of anything… I was always a resigned child, and I am a resigned teenager, and I'm sure will be a resigned woman.

She laughed. "Besides, isn't it always the teenage beauty queens who come back to the twenty-year reunion horribly obese? I try not to put too much stock in my looks, at all. But as for your brother…"

"He told me you are begging him to paint you. It is tormenting him."

She shrugged. "Funny, isn't it? I sit here on my soapbox, telling you how beauty doesn't matter, yet I want him to paint me. But it's less about having a portrait of myself and more about setting in stone what he sees in me, you know, what he sees when he looks at me. I will never understand it."

"I don't think he will ever relent, Bella. It is the one thing he is absolutely adamant about not doing."

Bella sat against the counter, defeated. "So, he does not want me forever young, forever immortalized? I don't understand."

Alice sighed. "How much did he tell you about his parents?"

"That they died in a fire because a candle he was using while painting – it tipped into the oil paints."

"Did he tell you the _subject_ he was painting?"

Bella shook her head. "No, he didn't, and I didn't want to press him."

"He was painting his parents."

Bella closed her eyes, thinking of Edward's voice, red and agonized – _I'm cursed, Bella –_ and swallowed thickly. "Alice, who is the nude girl on the canvas?"

Alice opened her mouth to speak when Bella's phone rang, the generic tone startling both of them. They had been leaning towards each other, their voices lowering unconsciously, and the shrill ring brought them both back, gasping.

Bella laughed a bit, going for her phone. "Hello?"

"Bella."

"Edward," she answered in his same serious tone. She took a sip of her Coke, but nearly choked when she looked up at Alice. She was making a very inappropriate gesture with her tongue on the inside of her cheek. She turned away, giggling.

"I wondered… if you were… are you busy?" he asked, sounding nervous. She heard male voices in the background, and the reception kept crackling.

"Just making sweets with your sister," she answered, cradling the phone with her shoulder.

"Oh… well… are you having fun?" His voice was strangely high-pitched and breathless, like he was in the middle of being tortured.

"We are, yes," she answered slowly. "Are you all right?"

"Oh! Yes, yes, I'm fine…" She very distinctly heard a male voice that sounded a lot like Emmett say _just fucking do it_ and she laughed, thinking she knew what this was about. "Bella? Hold on."

"Okay," Bella laughed.

The phone went muffled, but she could still hear voices. She put it on speakerphone so Alice could hear.

"I think your brother is trying to ask me out, and your boyfriend and Emmett are coaching him through it," she whispered.

"Edward, you know she's not gonna say no," said Jasper's sweet voice, crystallized honey on trees.

"It just seems so cheap," Edward anguished. "She told me herself she's not a big movie buff. What do I do?"

"Ridiculous." That was definitely Emmett's voice. "Give me the fucking phone."

"What? No! Emmett, get your hands off – oomph!" Bella heard a loud thud, which she assumed was Edward either being shoved into something or knocked on the ground. Just imagining his petulant expression had Bella and Alice nearly doubled-over in silent laughter.

"Bella, it's Emmett."

"Nice to hear from you, Emmett."

"Likewise. Hey, did you catch that thing on Steve Irwin on the Animal Planet? That man was a fucking legend. You know that big croc he caught? That thing weighed – "

"Emmett!" That was Jasper, laughing. Alice smiled even wider at the sound of his mirth.

"Right. Look, my brother here is shitting bricks. Will you go out with him tonight?"

"Oh, I don't know," Bella said. "I don't like movies. It just seems so cheap."

Emmett laughed. "Edward, she totally heard you whining. You've hit rock bottom. Ask your girl out. Oh, Bella?"

"Yes, Emmett?"

"Dad got me this badass telescope. You really need to come over and check it out. You can see all of Saturn's rings."

"That sounds great. Now stop torturing your brother."

Ten seconds later, Edward was back on the phone. "Bella, I just want you to know that considering I'm not technically related to these two, anything they do is not a factor in my genetic makeup."

"I would love to go out with you, Edward."

He sucked in a surprised breath, but she could hear his smile, soft pink: the first flower of spring. "Tonight?"

"Tonight sounds great."

Two minutes and dinner plans later, she pressed the _end call_ button on her phone. She turned to Alice and said, "I know I just ranted about not caring about what I look like, but…"

Alice put her hands on Bella's shoulders. "My brother finds you absolutely beautiful exactly how you are. I want you to know that. You don't need to do this."

Bella sighed, wringing her fingers. "When I am seen with him in public, I want people to look at us and see us as equals."

Alice shook her head. "You've got it all wrong. Bella, the way he looks at you is what makes you equals." She kissed her cheek. "But, I know some things that can accentuate what God already gave you. I think a little unresolved sexual tension would do Edward some good."

Bella groaned. "That is the _last_ thing I need. I want it resolved. Preferably seventeen seconds ago." Then her eyes widened. "I'm sorry, I think my sexual frustration just leaked out of my mouth in the form of too much information."

Alice grinned. "Is my brother… _cock-blocking_ you, Bella?"

"Oh my God." Bella moved away from her, mortified. "I'm not having this conversation."

"I find that really hard to believe," Alice said finally.

Bella looked up. "Really. Why?"

Alice heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, I don't know… all of that… _passion_ he has."

Bella threw up her hands. "That's enough out of you."

"Just think of it, Bella. He stores it up and it builds and builds and builds… one day, it's just going to… _explode."_

"I hate you, Alice."

Alice decided that Bella would shower at home, and then head over the Cullen house, so Alice could help Bella get ready. Bella insisted that Alice not make a Barbie doll out of her, and Alice just looked exasperated and said, _have I ever tried to make you into one, Bella?_

It was true, Bella thought, as she rubbed her strawberry shampoo through her hair. Alice had never tried to make Bella someone she wasn't. Bella also thought about Alice's words about Edward's passion. She would be lying if she said she hadn't thought of Edward in such a light, and thought of all the pent up… pent up… whatever he was holding back.

He had a beautiful, strong back, and his fingers were long and calloused, and she could almost feel the rough pads against her abdomen and then inside of her, where no fingers but her own had ever been. As she ran her loofah over her body, she moaned softly when it scraped her nipples. His errant fingers and dizzying kisses had been driving her wild, filling her up with white-hot want she never knew was possible.

Her fingers trailed over her chest, and she skimmed her thumb over the soft pink tip of her breast, seeing ivy eyes grasping and claiming every inch of her ivory skin. Her fingers trailed down quickly, and she rocked against the two fingers she pressed against the flushed, swollen innocence between her legs. She grabbed onto the side of the shower as she rubbed in tight circles, her breath coming out in strange spurts, the intake making her desire heavy with steam.

It was not her first orgasm, but it was her most intense, because now she had a face to put on the ghost lover who tinged her rose-red fantasies.

An hour later, she stepped into the Cullen house, her wet hair a pile on top of her head. She shut the door behind her nervously, hoping Edward wouldn't see her.

"Esme took him grocery shopping," said a soft voice behind her, the sugar melted in sweet tea. "He's not around."

Bella turned, smiling at Rosalie. "Good. Are you going to work?"

Rosalie blew out a long breath, her corn silk bangs floating off her forehead. "No. I thought I'd stay and help? If that's okay. I know we're not real close, but I like you, Bella."

"Of course it's okay," Bella insisted, instantly happy as she always was to hear something like that come out of the most beautiful person she had ever seen.

Rosalie smiled softly, and they started towards the stairs. "Truth be told, Bella, I'm a little fascinated by you. I don't say much, but I like to watch, and I've never seen Edward so…" She searched for the right word, and laughed around it. "Twitterpated. Totally and completely twitterpated."

"Did you bring your clothes, Bella?" Alice asked, leaning over the banister.

Bella waved a hand to the clothes draped over her arm. "Like I would ever not do your bidding, Alice," she said playfully.

Rosalie, Alice and Bella sat in Alice's spacious bathroom and talked while Bella got a mild makeover. It wasn't anything ridiculous – Alice plucked the stray hairs from between Bella's eyebrows, and then put a mask on her face that made it very tight, and then it peeled off to reveal even softer skin.

Rosalie painted Bella's nails a soft, modest pink and chastised her with a laugh every time she fidgeted. Alice allowed Bella's wavy hair to dry naturally, and then she ran a curling iron over a few pieces, so it fell in tendrils down her back. She put light makeup on her face as Rosalie looked on, clucking her tongue in approval.

"You don't even need this," Alice said, applying mascara to Bella's long, dark lashes.

"It feels nice to be pampered a bit," Bella admitted, fluttering her lashes involuntarily as the wand worked its way through them. "What did you all put on me?"

"Just some foundation and stuff to smooth out your skin a bit, some blush on the apples of your cheeks, eyeliner to your top lid and this mascara. Like I said, I'm not changing you. Just accentuating." Alice smiled beatifically. "You're all done."

Bella stood up and stretched, still in her ratty t-shirt and cut offs. She looked closely in the mirror, and was pleased with what she saw. Her brown eyes looked deep and dark and huge on her face, which was creamier than usual, with two bright spots on the tips. Her hair fell in soft waves around her face and over her shoulder. It was really getting quite long, she noticed – it was almost past her ribcage.

She turned to Alice and Rosalie, who were standing back, giving Bella her moment. She smiled at both of them. "Thank you."

They both gave her a hug, and she laughed, the sweet lavender hue of friendship clouding her vision.

XxXxX

It was just a simple blue dress. There was nothing special about it. She had worn it before in front of him, at graduation. She had thrown a white cardigan over it this time, not knowing if the restaurant would be chilly to her bare arms. It made no logical sense for him to look at her like that as she descended the stairs, fingers trailing the banister.

He stood with his hands in the pockets of his grey trousers, a dark green button up draped attractively across his upper body. But that was not the most important detail. He could not take his eyes off her, and his mouth could not close from the slight drop of his jaw. Her heart kicked into gear, sending bright red blood that sang for him through her veins.

He reached out his hand for her as she took her last step off the stairs, and she held his warm palm in hers before her feet hit the floor. He steadied her as he knocked her off her feet. He brought her knuckles up to his lips, and his hot breath ghosted her skin.

She could hardly breathe.

"I feel like this is the opportune moment to tell you how stunning you are," he whispered against her knuckles. The soft brushes of his lips against her skin made her stomach drop to her toes. "But I'm afraid of sounding hopelessly cliché."

"We can't have that, can we?" she teased.

"No, we can't." He didn't let go of her hand; instead, he tucked it underneath his elbow securely. "Are you ready?"

Lately, when he had asked her that, it sounded so much a loaded question. But tonight, she decided to let simplicity answer for her.

"I have never been more."

She concentrated on the violins coming through the speakers, the cool leather against her bare legs and the thrum of the engine as they made their way towards Port Angeles. She tried not to watch the right hand of this man, as it gripped the gear with each change in speed, the white-boned knuckles making an appearance next to the finely lined veins. She imagined that his whole hand could fit around one side of her ribcage, and the way it made her feel was strange. She was not a wilting flower, but he made her want to feel delicate.

"My sister told me that Mike Newton took you out on a date."

She laughed. "This is how you break the silence?"

He offered her a quick smile. "I'm sorry. I suppose I was just curious."

"I really don't want to talk about it."

"Please, Bella?"

"Why on earth would you want to talk about another person taking me out?"

"Morbid curiosity?"

"Edward?"

"Bella?"

She reached forward to his console, grabbed the volume knob, and turned.

He looked horrified. "You did not just volume me."

"You have been volumed."

He laughed, and it was beautiful, clear sound, the last hopeful note waning on a chord. "I deserved that. Completely."

"Yes, you did. And I'm not telling you a thing."

He remained in an amused silence for another ten minutes, before he broke the ice again.

"I just want to know where he took you. To see if I have stiff competition."

"I think it should be obvious that you have no competition," Bella said testily. "Considering you were heinous to me up until graduation, and yet I'm still here, completely enamored by you. But if you have to know, he took me to Forks Diner, and then we walked around downtown for a while, just talking. Mike is a very nice person, and I won't listen to you emasculate him due to your own misplaced insecurities."

He looked completely baffled by her outburst. "I didn't emasculate anyone, spitfire. I'd appreciate you not placing ridiculous words into my mouth and using them to your own end, when in reality, they are your own insecurities."

"Have _you_ ever taken a girl out?"

"Of course I have."

"Before or after you painted her?"

She heard Edward's sharp intake of breath over the crescendo of violins, dark and haunting, deep brown of hidden ancient forests.

Bella did not immediately regret her words. She was still learning a lot about herself, but one thing she knew was that she was irrational in her anger. However, she felt her question was totally justified: if Edward could pry into her past that did not matter, then so could she.

But then she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and the look on his face made her change that opinion really fast. Clearly, she was not prying into parts of his past that did not matter. She was prying into parts of his past that mattered very much.

"Edward, I'm – "

"Just don't, Isabella."

_Isabella._ She had once punished him with that name, and now he was punishing her.

Sighing, she wished she had their notebook. It tended to be easier to open up or be angry or be sexual or be completely herself when she didn't have to watch his reaction.

They made it to Port Angeles in silence, rolling through the small, sleepy harbor town. Bella was feeling terrible; she had completely overreacted, and she wasn't quite sure why.

Edward stopped in front of Bella Italia, and she wanted to cry. He had remembered the restaurant he toted her to after she had nearly passed out from fear, that day the awful man had attacked her here. She remembered watching him that night, sitting across from him as he grinned at Alice's jokes, thinking he was quite possibly the most beautiful person she had ever known. She had been completely engrossed in him, the way he pulled apart his breadsticks before popping pieces in his mouth, the way his jaw would clench on each bite, the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed.

He parked the car and turned off the ignition, and they sat in silence for a moment.

"Edward, please – "

"We have a reservation at eight. It's nearly that time. I don't want to be late."

She sighed, the urge to cry hitting her again. "All right," she whispered, knowing she had no right to feel sorry for herself.

He got out of the car, closed his door, and then went to her side to help her out. She placed her hand in his as she stepped a foot out, but he didn't allow her hand to break free once she was situated. She smiled a bit at him, and he barely allowed himself to grin back, but she saw it. He tucked her hand in his elbow once again, and they walked into the restaurant together.

They settled into their seats in the back, and Bella took a deep breath. She would say what she needed to, so they could move on, and she could enjoy him – his beauty, his grace, his claim over her she didn't even understand. She opened her mouth to begin when the waitress sauntered up.

"Welcome to Bella Italia," she said with a smile. "I'm Kate, and I'll be your server this evening. Can I start you off with some drinks?"

Bella ordered a Coke, craving the sweetness on her tongue. Edward said water was fine, and Kate eyed him for a moment before nodding.

"I'll bring you out some bread and oil and vinegar with your drinks." She stared at him again, hard, speculatively, and something strange welled up inside Bella. She leaned into him, as they were next to each other in a round booth.

She felt him chuckle as the server walked away. "Why don't you just urinate on me?"

"Too messy, and it would cause a scene," she joked back, relieved that he still had smiles for her. "Edward – "

But Kate was back with the drinks and their breadbasket. "I'll give you two a minute to look over the menu. Let me know if you have any questions." She smiled at them, and there was nothing really malicious about it, but Bella did not like the way she kept looking at him.

"What are you thinking about ordering?" Edward asked as Bella glanced over the menu.

"I'm not sure. What I had last time was really good, the mushroom ravioli. But I'm craving some sort of meat."

He laughed, and she was reminded that he was still a boy, capable of chuckling over misplaced 'meat' word associations.

"Shut up," she insisted. "I think the chicken parmigiana sounds amazing. What about you?"

"The pasta primavera sounds like a winner," he said, giving one last sweeping look of his menu before closing it.

Kate, their server, was prompt. "Have we decided?"

They placed their orders, and she wrote them down, complimenting their choices. She grabbed their menus with a smile, and then moved over to the touch screen computer to place their orders.

Bella turned to Edward, who was staring at her unabashedly. "I know you have something you want to say, and I will listen, but I have to insist on doing something first."

"All right," Bella said slowly, not expecting Edward to press his lips to hers moments later.

She made a strange noise in her throat, not realizing she had missed the pressure of his mouth against her own until she had it in her reality again. She opened her mouth under his, just slightly, and he groaned before capturing her top lip in a pull that left her dizzy with desire. Then he sat back, too soon as always, and she was nearly panting.

"Um," she said after a moment. "It's really not fair to expect me to be coherent after that."

He laughed again, obviously delighted over the affect he had over her.

She took a deep breath, and then began again. "Edward, I'm sorry. I think I got so defensive because I know very little about your past, and I was taught an innate sense of fairness as a girl. I don't want to feel like I'm giving you tawdry details if I can't get any in return."

He looked wounded. "I've told you things about myself I haven't told anyone."

She took his hand under the table, and pressed his thumb to her lips. "I know. But there is still so much I don't know. I feel like I am an open book, because I have nothing interesting to tell about myself. So I try to zealously guard all the little things you still don't know, because I'm afraid once they run out… you'll… I don't know. Leave."

He smiled sadly. "Bella, you don't want to be interesting in the way I am."

She shook her head. "I don't mean interesting. I meant consequential."

"That is all relative."

She smiled, knowing she would get nothing from him right now. "All right, what's your favorite color, then?"

He teased her. "You're asking an artist for his favorite color? That's like asking a porn star for his favorite position."

"So what if I ask an artist for his favorite position?" She was suddenly coy and a bit brazen, smiling at him from under her lashes.

He grinned, enjoying her flirting. "You would do better asking a porn star for his favorite color."

She nudged him. "Oh, come on!"

He shrugged. "Fine." He took a deep breath, and she waited, her skin flushed. "Blue."

Her mouth dropped in indignation. "No! I meant… ugh, _Edward."_

"I don't want to give you tawdry details if I feel I can't get them in return." He used her words against her.

"Who's saying you won't get them in return?"

"Well, in that case…" His large, warm palm suddenly landed on her thigh, close to her knee. Blood ran away from his hand, flowing up her body and landing on her already rouged cheeks. "You'll find out, Bella."

Her food was delicious, the tang of marinara perfect against her palate. She and Edward engaged in light conversation after that, discussing future plans for the summer and talking about classes they were taking their senior year. There was a constant undertone of implication and innuendo in their words, and she wanted to get him alone soon, so she could… well, she didn't know what she would do once she got him there, but she wanted it.

She stood up to go the restroom as Edward finished up his meal, and she saw him looking at the long, pale lines of her legs as she scooted out of the booth. She made it to the restroom with a smile, and she stared at her reflection for a while. Her eyes were bright with flirtation, and her cheeks were flushed with first love.

She looked… _pretty._ She was reminded of Edward writing _you are beautiful_ in her notebook months earlier, and how in that short instance, she had believed him. He hadn't said it in words tonight, but in the way he had looked at her, touched her, spoke to her, and tonight, she saw herself through his eyes once again.

As she made her way back out, she was almost to the table when she noticed Kate, their server, leaning over the table in what appeared to be a very intense conversation with Edward. He looked agitated and very uncomfortable, while Kate just looked incredulous.

Bella crept closer, hating herself for wanting to know the nature of their conversation.

"… Tanya would want … "

"… still have painting … "

"… she loved …"

"… we all miss… "

Bella couldn't do it any longer. She was not a sneaky person; she was bound to trip and embarrass herself. She cleared her throat quietly, which caused Kate to jump back like she had been electrocuted. Edward just looked ridiculously glad to see her.

"Ready to go?" Edward asked, standing up.

"Sure," Bella said, peeking looks between Kate and Edward.

"Come back soon," Kate said, smiling at both of them, but especially Edward. Again, it wasn't flirtatious in nature.

Edward nodded, and then put his hand on the small of Bella's back and guided her out.

They were walking along the harbor before Bella got up the nerve to ask about Kate. She didn't want to ruin anything. It was lovely walking down the water's edge with her hand in Edward's, watching the way the rarely present moon made a triangle of light against the black surface.

"So, what was that about?" she said finally, fingering one of her curls.

"Hmmm?" he asked peaceably, like there was no moment except this one.

"Our server," she explained. "She seemed to know you."

"Oh, yes. She thought I looked familiar – it turns out she's the sister of, ah, one of my old friends."

"Oh." Bella gnawed on her lip. She was being ridiculously paranoid. "Well, that's nice. A friend from Alaska?"

Edward took a deep breath before answering. "Yes. Apparently, their father has a summer home here, on the harbor. He is originally from Seattle… their parents are divorced. She is staying with him for the summer before going back up to Alaska."

"She seemed really nice."

"Yes, she did."

"Do you think – "

He pressed her against the railing in a swift movement. "I think about a lot of things, but the number one thing I am thinking about is kissing you."

She vaguely recognized this as a distraction technique. She almost pressed the issue, but she was nearly powerless to resist him, especially when he so openly wanted her. "Stop thinking," she told him.

The drive home consisted of one of her hands being held by Edward, and the other hand tracing her swollen lips. He had kissed her until she couldn't breathe, and then kissed her some more, his sense of urgency spurring her own.

When they arrived at the Cullen house, all the lights were off except a few lamps in the upstairs. Their dim glow called her home.

They got out of his car slowly, not wanting the night to end. It had not been perfect, but it had been the best night of her life.

She walked over to her truck, and he didn't follow. She turned to him, still digging in her purse for her keys. "Edward?"

"Will you stay?"

Her hand had just closed around her keys. "What?"

He walked over to her. "I don't want to say good night to you. I much prefer 'good morning.'"

There were several things wrong here. One, it was just their first date. Two, she had no idea how exactly he felt about her. Three, Charlie would shit a brick if he ever found out she wasn't really hanging out with Alice. And four… well… three reasons were good enough.

"I'm not a plaything," she said slowly, and he looked horrified.

"No, Bella," he whispered. "You are _every_thing."

She turned away, shutting her eyes tightly. "Don't make those proclamations without meaning them with every ounce of you. I don't take that lightly."

"Why, Bella? Because you feel the same way, too?"

She looked up at him, his hair an orange flame under the porch light. "Yes."

He let out a breath, sharp and fluid. "I don't deserve you."

She smiled and placed a hand on his chest. "We deserve each other."

He took her hand and kissed her palm before placing it on his cheek. "Please, Isabella Marie, will you stay with me tonight?"

She swallowed, knowing if she said yes, her life would never be the same again. She stared up at him, so full of love and lust and want and desire that she realized her decision was already made. She was young and she was in love for the first time, and she would live it with all of her heart.

"Okay," she murmured.


	14. With The Moon I Run

So, I know. I take twelve days to update, and then give you this short little transition piece. Will you believe me if I say it was out of my control? Because truly, it was. After this, they should come a lot quicker (that's what she said). Seriously, it's short. SHORT. short. Shoooort. Got it? Now you have been warned. Hopefully it's worth it. I think you will like this new transition, and the phase they are moving in to.

Thanks to everyone - my betas, and all the sweet reviewers (seriously, almost 200 for the last chapter. You guys pushed me over 1,000. WOW.), recommenders, story alerters, favoriters, Twilighted girls... you all make my day. I feel like I have more to say. But you are not reading this anyway, so what's the point? Here are the goods.

**Disclaimer: **I eat ramen like it's going out of style. Do you really think I own these characters?

* * *

**With The Moon I Run**

Bella walked into his room, her dress neatly folded in her arms. One of his soft t-shirts was draped over her body, hitting her just above the knee. He had insisted she change out of her dress, and she had complied, confused.

She wasn't exactly sure how these things worked, but she had read a few erotic novels, and wasn't he supposed to lay her down and peel off her dress layer by layer, kissing newly exposed freckles as he went? Wasn't he supposed to whisper how beautiful and seductive her dress made her, and how since the moment he saw her that evening, he couldn't wait to see her skin?

After Bella had agreed to stay, he had taken her hand and led her up the stairs silently. After he closed the door to his room, he had pressed her against the wood and kissed her so deeply she was certain he was about to start stripping her. But instead, he had drawn back, gone to his chest of drawers and handed her a long grey t-shirt to change in to. When she inquired, he had shaken his head and gestured wordlessly to the bathroom.

Edward Cullen was a strange creature.

He had his back to her when she entered, sitting on the bed shirtless and lean, and she drew in a sharp breath. Maybe… maybe he _was_ going to…

He turned when he heard her, and smiled wanly. "Sit down next to me, please, Bella."

She began walking towards him. It was then she noticed the Tupperware container in his hand. "What is… what are you doing?"

He held out his hand to her, and as always, the sweet pink invitation had her smiling as she laced her fingers with his. She sat next to him, their palms scraping together as their eyes locked, leaves to bark.

"Do you trust me?" he asked in a low voice, keeping her stare.

She reached out her other hand and placed it on his warm chest, right over the staccato of his heart. "Yes."

He closed his eyes slowly, breath coming in and out of his nose. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his while his eyes were closed, and he made a surprised noise against her mouth. His fingers went into the hair behind her ear, and he twirled it lightly around his shaking digits as he kissed her back, red and yellow, passionate and sorry for it.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, and she was momentarily distracted from the giant Tupperware containers. But he wasn't – he had a goal, a plan, a blueprint of this night.

"No more distractions, please," he laughed lowly. He turned his attention to his bedside table, where a small, fine-haired paintbrush laid waiting for his artistry.

"Okay," she agreed, taking in a deep breath and releasing it into his atmosphere.

"Close your eyes."

She did, and it allowed her other senses to go into overdrive. The bed shifted with his weight, and his smell of turpentine, sweat and soap clung to the air particles around her. She heard a slight tapping noise, and then his weight shifted again, and something cold and wet was pressed against her face, right near her eye.

She flinched. "Edward!"

"Shhh," he soothed. "You said you trusted me."

"I do…"

"Then relax. Keep your eyes closed. Just let me feel you."

It took a couple more touches with the cold, wet substance for her to realize what was happening.

He was painting on her.

Her breath hitched, and she dug her fingernails into her thighs. The submission of his action was not lost on her, but she didn't want to focus her mind on what this meant. She just wanted to enjoy.

His strong fingers came up to her chin and held her head softly in place as the fine-haired brush stroked up and down her cheek in strange patterns.

"Do you remember the first picture I drew for you, in our notebook?" he asked eventually, his warm breath blowing across the planes of her skin.

"The drawing of my eye, with the flower," she whispered.

"I'm recreating it to scale," he said softly. "If you are willing, that is."

She laughed a bit. "You already started. It's a little late."

"Oh," he said, and his motions halted. "I'm sorry. I thought you wanted – "

"If I could open my eyes, they'd be glaring at you. Hush and continue."

He did so, and she could feel his smile in the brushstrokes. They sat in silence for a few minutes, the sound of their breathing the only accompaniment to the crescendo of her heartbeat.

"So…" he began nervously as he used his fingernail to shape some blob of paint underneath her eye. "Did you enjoy yourself? On our date, I mean?"

Bella smiled. She still wasn't allowed to open her eyes, but she could practically see the magenta dots on his cheeks and the tip of his ears. "Yes…" she laughed, trailing off. "I thought I made that pretty clear."

"Well," Edward said, his brushstroke faltering a bit. "Yes, I mean… you did. I just wanted to make sure, you know, if I did anything wrong, so I can I leave it out… next time."

Bella considered teasing him – she loved a nervous, flustered Edward – but something _was_ gnawing at the fleshy peach depths of her brain. "Edward," she hedged.

"Oh God, I did something – "

"No," she laughed. "No, nothing like that. It's just, this girl… Kate?"

His painting stopped altogether. "Yes?"

"What did you say your relationship to her was?"

He sighed and the body heat she had felt so close to the left side of her form abruptly turned cold. She opened her eyes, and he was standing away from her, picking up a container of black paint. He turned and saw her eyes open.

"No peeking," he chastised with a soft smile.

"Why won't you tell me?" Bella was getting antsy.

He sighed again. "She was the sister of a girl named Tanya. Tanya was a person I used to be close to. I am no longer close to her due to circumstances out of my control."

Bella glared at him suspiciously, feeling some dried paint crack on her face. "Don't insult my intelligence."

He stared at her, his eyes hard chips of malachite. "You're much more observant than I gave you credit for."

"What? I'm not some doe-eyed girl, walking around batting her eyelashes at you like some cow – "

He sat back next to her at once, taking her small, flushed hands in his large, calloused ones. "It's not a matter of your intellect. You're right, Bella. There's a story here. But it's one I am just not ready to tell. Please, I promise to tell you. I swear it. But I just, I can't – "

He was viscerally upset, blood pooling under his skin as he fidgeted.

"Okay," said Bella, after counting to ten. "I'm not… trying to pressure you in to telling me anything. Thank you for acknowledging that there is, in fact, a story."

Edward frowned at her. "How old are you, Bella?"

Bella answered, surprised. "Seventeen. You knew that."

"You don't seem seventeen."

"Would you like to see my driver's license?" she grated.

He smiled at her briefly. "Close your eyes, please."

When she opened them again at his bidding, it was half an hour later. The whole side of her face was covered in paint, and her eyes were watering from the tiny pressure he had applied to her under eye as he wrote the word 'blooming.'

"You're finished," he said softly, rolling his brush on a towel. "Would you like to go look?"

Bella nodded. She stood up and stretched, very stiff from sitting in the same place for nearly an hour. Edward watched the lines of her body as his t-shirt skimmed the bottom of her underwear, and she was not nervous.

She walked to his bathroom and flipped on the light. She looked over at the mirror and her mouth dropped.

Her whole eye and surrounding cheek and forehead were covered in an ornamental purple flower, shaded perfectly with black and white and green, fleshy leaves. His script of 'blooming' underneath her eye was almost calligraphic, and she looked exotic and mysterious and open.

He came up behind her and tugged on the bun she had thrown her hair up in. She closed her eyes as his fingers went through her hair, taking it down in long tendrils, fanning it over her shoulders.

"Is that satisfactory, madame?" he asked in her ear, his white-hot breath across her neck.

"Do you think it is?" she asked instead, dying to see if he saw in her what she saw in herself.

He pressed his thumb against her cheek. "I think you are so devastatingly beautiful, it's hard to look at you for very long."

She was very aware of his bare chest and her own bare legs, and she wanted nothing more than to paint warmth on his skin with her fingers. She stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his, chastely at first, but then wilder when he groaned and picked her up off her feet. Her legs went around his waist, and he carried her back to his room. He gently placed her on the bed, and she ran her blunt fingernails down his chest, scraping a soft nipple with one her nails.

He breathed out heavily and took his lip between his teeth. "Bella, this…"

"Edward." She stopped him, putting her hands on his hips. "I've never been in this situation before. I don't know anything about what to do, where to put my hands or mouth or legs or… or anything. All I really know is… all I really know is that I'm in love with you, completely and totally, and you don't have to love me back for this to be valid. I want you, and this."

His chin dented in and his bottom lip dipped in and out in a strange tremble. "Did… what did you just say?"

She stared at him, right in the eyes, not afraid as she had always been. "I'm in love with you."

His whole body crumpled, and he moved forward, gasping breaths permeating the air around them. "No," he whispered, his forehead finding purchase against her sternum.

"Yes," she said, cradling him as they fell back against his bed. "I love you. It's okay, Edward. You don't have to love me back."

"Bella," he whispered against her neck, where she felt molten tears. "Don't you know, sweetheart?"

"Know what?"

He settled against her, his head over her heartbeat. "You are my life now."

XxXxX

Her hips arched up, seeking the pressure building underneath. It writhed and wrought and wreaked havoc on her insides, her head thrashing about on the pillow as her lover brought her closer and closer to the plateau, to the peak, and then to the fall. Or, was it flying? She thrashed again as the sweet toxic press increased, her insides slick and ready, and she sought it, cried for it, a two-syllable absolution on her lips as she sat straight up in her sweat.

Panting, she came back down from her almost lover's hand, wiping perspiration off her brow. She fully intended on rolling over and going back to sleep when two points of light caught her attention.

They were Edward's eyes, silver in the moonlight. And they were staring straight at her. She swallowed, feeling like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She knew she had said his name; she had felt him inside her as she dreamt of his sex, and he had her panting, moaning, sweating for him.

He had her on her back before she could take her next breath. He settled between her thighs and ground himself against her once, and then stopped, waiting for her permission to continue. Bella was too busy being completely enamored by the feeling of something so solid, something such a part of Edward, something so… so masculine, being forced up against her. And she loved it.

He was funny and kind, handsome and talented. He was an artist and a musician, a smoker of weed and mildly anal-retentive. But at the core of him, he was a man… a man, with a… penis (she tried out the word in her head) that was very hard against the still-throbbing pink patch between her thighs.

"You said my name," he whispered, his voice gruff from sleep. His lips pressed against her neck, her collarbone, and his hands snaked up the t-shirt of his she was still wearing. His long fingers smoothed over her trembling skin and brushed a rosy nipple. She breathed out, amazed at how different it felt when someone else was touching her there.

"I was dreaming… about you," she admitted, arching her back to help him with lifting off her shirt.

He pressed their bare chests together and kissed her, desperate with his lips and the first taste of his tongue. The red-hot heat of his chest burned against hers, and she wrapped her arms around him and ran her fingers down the thick cords of his back. He groaned and thrust his hips forward again, hitting that pulsing, tender skin that ached so sweetly.

She cried into his mouth the next time he did that, and again, and again, and so many times that it became a pattern, a rhythm, a beat. His forehead found purchase on hers, and they shared each others steamy air as he drove them closer and closer to the orgasm that was threatening to explode right out of her womb.

"Bella, I…" he said, his voice strained, his thrusts taking on a frenzied, random motion.

"It's okay," she whispered, glad he was close, because she was starting to get sore. He nodded and picked up his pace again, rubbing himself shamelessly against the heat she was emanating, and she cried out as he came, his pleasure her own.

He collapsed shakily on top of her, taking in great gasps of air as he trembled. She kissed his sweaty forehead and he hummed contentedly.

"This is…" he said after a moment. "Really uncomfortable." He gestured to the blatant wet spot in his flannel bottom. "I'll be back momentarily." He grinned at her and pinched her nipple, which surprised her – she gasped and giggled on the same breath.

"All clean?" she teased as he climbed back into the bed in a fresh pair of pants.

"Mmm-hmmm," he muttered, snuggling up to her. "You're so warm." His hand trailed down her bare stomach and found the damp spot between her legs. "And still so wet for me."

His fingers worked her throbbing clit in tight circles, making her writhe and arch up to meet his patterns. He dipped one long finger inside of her and groaned, but she tensed up.

"Does that hurt?" he whispered in her ear, kissing the sweaty hair on her neck.

"A little," she whispered. "Nothing… no one has ever been there before, besides me. I don't… _oh,"_ she cried as he placed his fingers back on her clit. "Um, Edward, don't… stop. Don't… do not… oh God…"

He didn't stop, and she came at another person's touch for the first time in her life. As she closed her eyes and sank into his skin, she counted herself lucky.

Not many people get to experience that with the love of their young, and maybe whole life.


	15. The Taste of Ink

Is this an update? Yes, it is. I have tons of valid excuses why this is a month late, but I doubt anyone reads the author notes anyway. Thanks for all the encouragement and reviews and favorite-rs and alerters, and the general niceness of all my readers. Thanks to the Twilighted thread ladies, the hilarious women at the_gazebo, and thanks to **lovebuggkiss** for making me a beautiful banner which can be seen on my Twilighted thread. Thanks to doitforyou for betaing so quickly - blame her if there are any typos.

**Disclaimer: **Time passes. Even for me. But I still don't own these characters.

* * *

**The Taste of Ink**

Sweet, saccharine, orange warmth enveloped her as she turned over in her semi-conscious state. The skin sliding against the tip of her nose and against the pads of her fingers was rough in some spots and achingly soft in others, and she moved towards it, a moth to a flame. Her ears picked up a discordant tune, the origin seeming to spawn from a rumbling in the warmth itself.

She opened her eyes and it was morning. It was the first day of the rest of her life. Then she smiled and then she laughed, and then she was pushing away from the off-key hum, which rumbled louder with laughter.

"Is my humming really so offensive to you?" Edward said quietly, the first words of the day gruffer than any other.

"You were humming the Oscar Meyer Weiner song."

"It's the first song that came to mind."

Bella laughed and stretched. "There are so many innuendos for me to use, I don't even know where to begin. I'll just let that one speak for itself."

"Are you implying that my first song of the day is because of my… weiner?" He leaned forward and tickled her, and her limbs went flying as she shrieked.

"Does sexual satiation make you silly?" Bella laughed, kicking him square in the chest. She didn't know where the playfulness came from. She had been anticipating waking up shy, gathering her clothes and making breakfast with Alice. No eye contact. No tickling. And certainly no growing desire.

"Nice alliteration," he told her, grabbing her wrists and pinning her to the bed. He bent down to kiss her, and she didn't mean to, but she recoiled a bit – his breath was sour, and she was sure hers was just as bad.

He laughed at her. "I wish I wasn't so happy, so I could be properly offended at that. Still…" He made a big show of holding his breath, and then leaned down and gave her a very chaste peck on the lips. "You could use a toothbrush, yourself."

She swatted at him, and he jumped off the bed with a chuckle. She could see the green of his eyes from across the room, and he sighed. "Ah, Bella."

"Hmph," she said, pretending to be offended herself as she climbed out of bed. She was still in his big t-shirt, and her mouth felt like steel wool and her face was crusty and dry from the paint, and she felt beautiful.

The thought staggered her, and she stopped moving.

"Bella?"

"Bella," she repeated, the meaning and not the name.

Edward walked over to her slowly. She must have looked insane, twisting her fingers and mumbling to herself. "Are you all right? Your breath really isn't that bad, you know."

She laughed. "You think I'm beautiful."

His eyebrows went together in the middle, but smiled. "I know you're beautiful."

She grasped him around the middle, crushing her face into his chest. "Thank you, Edward. Thank you so much."

XxXxX

"Whoa! Okay, that's enough batter. Back away from the griddle." Bella brandished a spatula at Alice, who dumped waffle batter behind her back at an alarming rate.

Alice just grinned. "You're looking cheerfully rumpled this morning, Bella. And Edward's been in the shower an awful long time. Anything to report?"

"That you continue to be both hopelessly nosy and incorrigible, Cullen. And you have batter on your face."

"I can take care of that," said Jasper, swooping down and kissing Alice on the side of her mouth, where the sticky substance resided. He made a face. "Oh, that's nothing like cake batter… Lord in heaven, that's…" He sputtered and stuck out his tongue. "Is that plaster?"

Breakfast was made and devoured, the dishes were washed and dried, and still Edward did not descend the stairs. Bella dried her hands on a dishtowel and looked above her, to the ceiling. She listened for the sound of a crashing piano, and heard nothing but strange silence.

"Go see what he's up to," Rosalie suggested as she rubbed Emmett's stomach. "Lord knows the child doesn't eat unless he's forced."

When Bella reached Edward's studio, she stopped short. He was standing in front of a canvas, nude except for the bed sheet he had tucked around his waist haphazardly. She flushed a desirous red, watching the muscles tick in his back as his brush moved across the canvas, and traced the dimples with her eyes.

"You didn't come to breakfast. I made waffles."

He whirled around. "Finally!" He stalked forward and took her hand, then pulled her back towards the canvas. "I'm painting, Bella. _Painting._ Look!"

She squinted her eyes, trying to decipher what on earth he had put on the canvas. Then she clapped her hand to her mouth, recognition dawning pink.

On the canvas, a painting of their red notebook was displayed, with undecipherable writing in various spaces and even a yellow page was visible. But when she looked closer, her handwriting was replicated near perfectly, coming together to read the erotic words she had written weeks ago.

"It's our notebook. It's my words," she whispered. She looked to the side and saw their red notebook laying open, her writing on the forefront.

"It's your heart," he confirmed. "Read what it says."

"I know what it says. I wrote it," she defended, flushing.

"I want to hear you say the words," he whispered, his sheet dancing low on his feminine hips.

She put her lips between her teeth, and then opened her mouth to speak the white-hot words of passion unrelenting.

"_You are flushed, embarrassment and desire, newness and nudity, strange foreign feelings that become familiar under fingers. You are both complete and completely incomplete, the emotion of motion taking over the sweet, slow grind grinding your mind. The life of the light threatening to be too bright overcomes and you watch, you feel her, and the scalding heat from her eyes calls out to you, and then you are humming, thrumming, coming inside – compliant but not complacent, sated but not satiated."_

The words had barely left her trembling mouth before Edward moved her backwards with the force of his kiss. It hurt, the bruising power of his lips, and she whimpered, and he soothed.

He moved them backwards, and her shaking knees hit hard, cool wood. He sat her gently down on the bench, bending at his waist to keep her kisses against his. She tasted his warm tongue, and she enjoyed the minty flavor of his toothpaste against the desire. Her hands trailed down his chest, and he hissed against her mouth, sharp sucking of breath between his teeth, and she claimed his bottom lip. Then her fingers slowly scraped his thighs, and his hips thrust forward so sharply the sheet fell away.

Bella's eyes went wide when she took in the male nude form. She had never… seen… oh my God… there was so much skin. And… she reached her hand out, but Edward jerked away.

"I'm so sorry," he said, grabbing his sheet and trying to wrench it back up. "I wasn't even thinking… I jumped out of the shower and had to paint, and just… grabbed this. Bella, I'm sorry. I know you've never seen this, and to be presented… like this… _shit!"_

Bella, curious and wanting, reached out and brushed his half-erect penis. It wasn't anything like she was expecting, and it was a lot smaller than she had thought she felt last night.

"That's insulting," he laughed breathlessly.

She realized she spoke aloud. "Oh, um. Well… I don't… I mean. I saw a porn once, on accident – Renee was watching it with… with Phil. And, um… well… I thought – "

"Bella," he chuckled. "I'm just an average man, with an average looking penis."

She cocked her head. "What is that… six inches? Six and a half?"

"Um… six point eight inches, to be exact."

"You measured!" she giggled, and then touched him again.

He breathed out heavily and fell forward, his arms on either side of her. "Are you done exploring?"

"Do you want me to be?" she asked seriously, feeling him grow stiffer and smoother against her palm. She moved her hand up experimentally, and it felt awkward, like she was going to sprain her wrist if she kept moving it like that.

"Here," he breathed, and guided her wrist, and it still felt awkward, but the noises he was making made her keep going. She wasn't sure how a dry rub against his erection was eliciting those noises, but it was barely a minute before he croaked out her name and grabbed the sheet and finished himself into it.

She wrinkled her nose. "Gross."

He laughed and kissed her. "You really should stop insulting me. It's starting to hurt my feelings."

She shoved him playfully, still high on the feeling. "I just meant it's gross that knowing you, you'll probably just blot that off and then put it right back on your bed."

He made a face at her, and then carefully wrapped the sullied sheet back around his waist. "I need to go… oh that's fucking sick, it just touched me!"

Her giggles followed him all the way to the bathroom.

XxXxX

_Is this some sort of rite of passage all teenage girls are supposed to meet before becoming a woman? Is it the act of sexuality itself, or just the feminine pride in being wanted by a beautiful man? _

"Bella?"

She looked up from the loping scratch in her personal notebook. "Yes?"

Esme was peeking around the corner of her office. "Can I ask you a question?"

Bella put down her pen. "Of course."

"Carlisle has a convention in Seattle next week, and I was thinking of making the trip with him – there's an open house going on in one of the more uppity neighborhoods, and I love to get new ideas from the rich and powerful." She smiled. "Well, you were telling me the other day how you had never been to Seattle – I was wondering, would you like to come with Carlisle and me?"

Bella began smiling at the word 'Seattle' and she was practically clapping and squealing by the end of Esme's short speech. "Really? Oh my goodness… that's just… yes! Yes! When do we leave?"

Esme laughed. "Sunday night, and we'll be gone through Wednesday evening. Perhaps you should check with your father before confirming?"

Bella picked up the phone immediately and rushed through a quick, breathless explanation which made no sense due to her excitement. Charlie demanded to speak to Esme, who spoke to him with her light Southern grace, and he agreed to let Bella take the trip.

When Esme handed Bella the phone back, Bella tried to sneak in what she thought was an innocent enough question.

"So… will anyone else be joining us?" she asked casually.

Esme laughed. "No, Edward isn't going. I'm taking you because you're my assistant and because Carlisle will be in and out of meetings all week, and I'll be lonely."

Even though she was excited to go, the first thought in her head was being away from Edward for three days. Then she told herself to stop being ridiculous. It was Seattle for goodness sakes, and she could deal with three stupid days.

XxXxX

"Three days?"

"Edward, please. It's not like I'm going to the moon. I'll be in Seattle."

"_I_ wanted to take you to Seattle."

"Seattle isn't going anywhere."

"That's not the point."

"You're being a child."

"That's not what you said last night."

"I didn't say anything of the sort last night. Actually, we didn't even talk last night."

"Bella, it's the nature of the joke. Work with me."

"You're pouting."

"You're _leaving."_

Bella whipped around from her suitcase to face Edward, who was must certainly pouting in her rocking chair. "I'm becoming concerned about your growing dependency on me. Maybe we should see other people." She grinned at him.

Edward just pouted further, sinking back into the chair. "I give you a painting and this is how you treat me?" He nodded to the painting of their notebook he came over to give her.

"I thanked you for the painting."

He grinned. "Yes, you did."

She smiled a bit, rolling her eyes at his innuendo. "Well, you could always come visit me in Seattle." She was kidding, but that made him look hopeful.

"Bella…" His voice had a very whiney quality to it, and she rolled her eyes. "You're acting like it's a crime to miss my girlfriend."

She stopped folding her jeans. "I wasn't aware you had one of those."

"What? A crime record?"

"A girlfriend."

"Bella, don't be dense. Do you really think I do this with every girl?"

The secrets that always hovered on their horizon were brought into full focus in her mind, and she whirled around, black anger in her vision. "How am I supposed to know what you do with other girls when you can't even properly ask me to be your girlfriend? When you won't even tell me about this mysterious Tanya?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, holding up his hands. "Bella, I'm sorry. I told you I'm bad at this." He slid off the rocking chair and shuffled to her on his knees, adorable bright pleading eyes leading his way. He kissed her hand all over the palm and she sighed, bright yellow stars fading her blackness.

"You're not going to get your way like this every time, Edward."

"As long as I get my way this one time, it doesn't matter. Bella, you own me. Please allow me the title, too?"

She sighed heavily. "I suppose."

Her kidding reluctance didn't deter him at all. He jumped up from his knees and wrapped her in arms, placing kisses on every inch of skin he could reach with his laughing mouth.

"Edward…" she giggled, trying to back away.

He took her hands and cupped them against his chest. "Thank you for giving me your heart. After all, you take care of my heart – I left it with you."

All the folded piles of clothes on her bed were obliterated after that statement.


	16. Color All My Dreams

*taps microphone sheepishly* Anyone still out there? I'm here with another chapter - 5000 words for you - and the hopes you are still with me.

Thank you to **WriteOnTime123** who offered to beta when my fish were MIA. Thank you to **littlesecret84** for being snarky with me over twitter. Thank you to **AngstGoddess003** and **queenofgrey** for rec'ing me over twitter. Thank you to **KStew 411** for reviewing and recommending Bare on your website. Thank you to **AHelm** for the amazing reviews of each chapter and the pimpage. Thank you to **the_gazebo**, who despite whatever you think of them, have been nothing but kind and supportive to me from day one. Thank you to every single reader, reviewer, recommender, etc. I'm so bad at replying, but I cherish every single one.

Thank you to my beta fish, doitforyou, le moulin & windtrails. Blub blub blub.

**Disclaimer:** I'm borrowing my roommate's shirt and Stephenie Meyer's characters.

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**Color All My Dreams**

"How do you feel about this color scheme?" Esme asked Bella quietly as they were led in to the master bathroom of one of the Seattle-area's most elite mansions.

Bella offered a noncommittal answer. Her mind wasn't on the muted golds and dark indigos; rather, it was on the beautiful boy who kept texting her. It had been a day and a half, and although Esme and Carlisle had been hospitable, kind and lively, she was missing the very person she teased for complaining about her departure. She remembered the way she had goaded him – kidding him about his growing dependency. Well, now the joke was on her. She was afraid of how much she missed the man.

She knew she loved him, and he knew she loved him, too. But that knowledge didn't stop her from being surprised by every pang and ache of new love. Missing someone was new for her. She missed her mom, but that was her mom. She had missed Charlie, but that was Charlie. She had never missed someone it wasn't expected of her to miss, and it was _difficult._

She felt awful for the way she had badgered him about missing her. She thought she had been too crass with him. And the way she had questioned him about his… his… _penis size_. Weren't guys sensitive about that sort of thing? Oh, she didn't know… everything just felt so new, and she had a nervous babbling mouth, and she was irritated at his lack of candidness with the whole Tanya situation.

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket, and she read the text message from that autumn-colored male she couldn't keep out of her errant thoughts.

_Jasper sends his regards, and asks me to tell you that at the battle in Cold Harbor, Virginia, seven thousand Americans fell in twenty minutes. _

_Tell Jasper I said hello, and that as always, I thank him for brightening my day with his cheerful anecdotes. _

"What did my son say now?" Esme asked as they walked down a carpeted hallway behind the tour group.

Bella repeated Jasper's fact, and Esme delicately rolled her eyes. "He's such a strange creature," Esme said lightly as she fingered a tapestry in the hallway. "I love my son with all my heart and soul, but I knew he would take after his father… that poor man."

Bella looked up from her cell phone, attentive to Esme's details. "His and Rosalie's biological father?"

Esme nodded. "Peter. He was quite a bit older than me… and a Vietnam vet. He was a good man and a good father, but he was completely haunted by his past. He became obsessed with the war, as I'm told many veterans do. Rosalie wouldn't hear anything of it… she's far too gentle and soft-hearted for the gruesome realities he was spewing out. But Jasper idolized his father and even at an early age, he would sit and watch the History Channel with Peter. Jasper took a liking to the Civil War, probably because he was able to trace back many of my ancestors to the Confederacy… and of course Peter encouraged it." She shrugged. "Oh, Bella, look… these sconces would look beautiful on the wall of the lobby. I love natural candlelight, don't you? Especially with the burnt red we just used on the walls."

Bella looked at the walls and offered her distracted opinion, her mind reeling over the little piece of information Esme had revealed. "If you don't mind… why did you divorce him?"

Esme smiled sadly. "At one of his veteran conventions, he met a woman who was a nurse during Vietnam. They swapped stories for hours – she listened to his musings and shared her own, while I could only hear and feel remorse for him. I didn't divorce him. He left _us _for the woman… her name was Charlotte."

Bella's heart stopped as she evaporated Esme's pain, wishing she could shield her from attack. "He left you with Jasper and Rosalie for another woman?"

Esme shrugged. "Don't judge him too harshly. He was haunted by war, and needed someone who would allow him to wallow rather than move forward. I couldn't be that for him, and it wasn't a healthy atmosphere to raise my children in. Really… he did us a favor."

Bella nodded as Esme floated off, making notes on her BlackBerry about the oriental rugs on the hardwood floor.

She dug out her phone again, and sent a text to Jasper.

_I hope I'm half the person Esme is one day. I just want you to know that. _

Esme came up behind her before she could send the text, and the smile that never left her face that day let Bella know her text had been read. She only wished Esme could see the response her son gave.

_We all could only be so lucky, fair Bella._

_XxXxX  
_

"Ready to go?"

Bella looked up from her massive king size bed, on which she was sprawled, no doubt wrinkling her cream colored dress. She had been texting Edward how much she missed him and wished he could see her in the Greco-Roman inspired frock that was draped against her body. It gave her slender figure dimension and curves, and she felt like she could do anything in it.

"Of course," Bella smiled, answering Carlisle, who looked dashing and debonair in his dark grey suit. He was leaning into her room with a very benign smile, like he was grinning upon a favorite daughter.

He held out his elbow for her, and she tucked her hand under it, unable to help her flush. She was on the arm of a very handsome, established doctor, and he toted her down the hallway like he couldn't have been more proud of his escort. They were to attend a fancy sort of dinner and dancing affair for surgeons of the Pacific Northwest, and Bella was happy to go – she enjoyed watching gaiety and jovial people, but she was hopelessly afraid of being out of place.

"Esme is waiting for us in the lobby," he told her just as they rounded the corner.

And she was, in a dress of night's indigo, her flash of caramel hair a beacon of light again the midnight sky fabric. And next to her was her daughter, a sister golden hair surprise, and her son, the charming Southern general. Next to him stood the petite onyx-haired siren that held his heart, and her booming brother, the history aficionado. But usurping them all was the shy artist with the flame-colored hair that set her heart on fire.

She drew in a sharp breath, bright lavender excitement shining in her eyes. "Sir," she said unthinkingly, speaking of Carlisle, tugging on his arm like he was a valiant knight who rescued her.

"It would seem, Bella," he said in a low voice, guiding her towards his smiling family, "that my children are quite attached to you."

"As I am to them, sir," she whispered. Carlisle let her hand go when she was three feet in front of Edward, who stared at her unblinkingly for thirty seconds before curving into a shy yellow smile.

"Did we shock you?" he said quietly. Without letting her answer, she continued. "You look like Madame Recamier."

"David!" she cried, referencing the famous French Neo-classical painter she and Edward had spoken of a few days previously. "Madame Recamier… Oh, I suppose I do, with my dress."

"You do," he said quietly. "It is only fitting, as he is my favorite painter, and you are my favorite person." He took her small palm and brought it to his soft mouth. "And I have missed you terribly, Isabella."

"I can't believe you're here," she whispered as she took the hand he held out for her. "I was wishing for you, and then there you were. Is this how life is supposed to work?"

"No," he laughed. "But with me…I promise you, Bella. There is nothing I will deny you. You are the most important thing to me now – the most important thing to me ever."

"I love you," she whispered to him, because she had not told him in days and he had said it to her in the way he stared at her as she walked to him.

He squeezed her tightly and then let go, taking a backseat as his family swept her away.

They decided to walk to the conference center, as it was only a few blocks away and the general mood was upbeat, just like their footsteps. Alice and Rosalie had a hold of Bella's hands, and they swung them up and down like a bunch of school-girls.

"We leave in a month, Bella," Rosalie said quietly, eyeing the burlesque boy that painted her heart red. He was arguing facts with a quiet, adamant Jasper.

Bella's heart sank to her toes. "I will miss you all so much," she said quietly, wanting to cry thinking of Emmett not being around to watch Animal Planet with her, or Rosalie being too far to smooth away the stray hairs that escaped from Bella's ponytail.

"I have a feeling you will be in our lives for years to come, sweet," Rosalie whispered, running a finger through a kinked curl on Bella's head. She shot a glance at the auburn boy talking quietly to Carlisle and Esme, the latter with her arm lovingly tucked under his elbow.

Bella shrugged self-consciously. "I love him," she said quietly, "so much that it scorches my skin from the inside out."

Alice squeezed her hand but did not offer words.

"I fear that his ghosts will haunt him, and he will never let me in."

"Do not forget your first method of communication – the method that always put him in his place. Bella, your spoken words are lovely, but as all words, have the ability to be transient. But if you write to him, he will see it, and can see it again, over and over, until he believes it."

Bella groaned playfully. "Why couldn't I have chosen Mike Newton?"

"Because he can't do this," said a light male voice in her ear, and then she was spun and dipped and brought up flush to her lover's body, his lips planted on hers before she could draw in air. He laughed at her expression, his warm breath across her still wet lips. "Any questions?"

"Can you do that more often?" she asked, and he winked and led her the rest of the way to the convention center with his laughter.

"Should I get the chicken or the fish?" Bella inquired of Jasper, who was to her left.

"Ah, fair Bella," he said slowly, considering this. "I am not a fan of salmon, myself."

"Too much living off it during your hardships?" she teased.

He poked her in the side with his finger, and she shrieked so loudly it alerted Carlisle, who was at the other end of the table.

"Problem, Bella?" he asked amusedly.

"Your son is a cad, sir," she said cheekily.

"I am not!" Edward, Jasper and Emmett protested.

"Are too," she told all of them, brandishing her fork. "Chicken or fish?" she asked Emmett.

"Chicken," he said decidedly. "It comes with a garden salad."

"That is awful reasoning. I prefer Caesar."

"I know."

She turned to Edward. "Chicken or fish?"

"Which would you prefer?" he asked her, and she smiled. Instead of offering his opinion, he told her that hers was the most important. It was probably stupid to wrap that around something as trivial as a chicken or fish decision, but the intent way he was staring at her, waiting for her answer made her want to lunge across the table and embarrass everyone with PDA.

"Chicken," she said firmly.

"Well that wasn't difficult," he chuckled.

They chatted amongst themselves, and when the waiter came by for their orders, she watched with fascination as each male ordered for their female. Bella was a bit taken aback by this, and was about to protest when Edward ordered for himself and then turned to her.

"Bella?"

"I'll have the chicken," she told the waiter with a huge smile on her face.

"Red potatoes or rice pilaf?"

"Rice."

"Very good, miss."

Her phone buzzed in her bag.

_Your eyes looked like they were going to pop out of your head. If you're ever uncomfortable with anything, I will do whatever it takes to make you secure. Even letting you order your own food._

_You could do something to make me more secure at this moment, _she texted back.

_Name it._

_Your hands on my skin._

She heard his intake of breath, sharp and full, and then he was on his feet with his hand outstretched.

"Dance with me?" he questioned in a low voice, his eyes asking to make love.

"Yes," she said simply, gauging his go green irises as she placed her tiny hand in his calloused palm. She followed him out to the dance floor sparsely populated, feeling following eyes on her back.

She wondered what people thought when she saw them together. Edward was dramatically beautiful – she had known it since the first day she saw him from across the cafeteria, snarling autumn fever in her direction before banging closed the doors. She hoped she could stand next to him, his white and dark mistress who looked up at him with all the world in her eyes.

"Were you surprised?" he asked with all the excitement of the child he never got to be. He drew her into his arms gracefully, and she stomped on his foot accidentally.

"I'm sorry," she said miserably, noticing his wince. "I'm an idiot at dancing. And yes, I was surprised… but not terribly so." She grinned up at him. "You made it very clear how useless you are without me around."

He laughed low in his throat, ancient secrets of love seeping out of his noise. "Well, it was Carlisle's idea for me to ask my brothers and sisters… he didn't want you to think this was an elaborate booty call."

Bella laughed as he twirled her, the draping skirt of her dress spinning prettily against her smooth legs. "So it isn't?" she asked as he drew her back close. She was not used to the blatantly sexual flirting, but he had seen her all but naked and she had seen him embarrassed and flushed at the drop of a sheet, and he was her boyfriend, was he not…

"Bella," he chuckled. "Your attempts at seduction are ador – ow!"

She had trodden on him again, her small kitten heel roaring against his toe. "I'm so sorry," she moaned, drawing herself out of his grasp. "I should just go sit – "

"Come back here," he demanded. "Kick off your shoes."

Giggling, she toed off her heels and stood barefoot on the dance floor, waiting for the next instruction. He walked her forward until her little toes were perched on his shoes, and his arms were clasped around her back.

"You're dancing," he smiled, pleased with himself.

"You're insane," she told him, happily aware of all the adoring looks that were being cast in their direction.

"Nonsense, Bella of the ball. Everyone is appreciating how beautiful you look," he whispered into her ear, spinning them slowly.

"I think it's us they're looking at," she corrected, meaning there was no beauty in her heart without he painting his warmth against it.

He just shook his head and pressed her closer. She closed her eyes and felt the worn cotton of his shirt against her cheek and wondered when she had ever been happier.

"Thank you so much for coming," Bella whispered against Alice's hair as the shorter girl hugged her close.

"Of course, Bella," Alice said, drawing back. She had looked so beautiful that night, in a plain black dress and short curls. "Rosalie, Emmett and Edward are going back home, but Jasper and I are just going to stay in the apartment he has here in the city." She smiled sadly. "Might as well christen it…"

"Alice!" Bella laughed, swatting her dearest friend. "My ears, honestly…"

Alice giggled and jumped out of the way just as Jasper and Edward walked up, looking curiously between the two.

"Please don't antagonize Alice. I have to deal with the after effects, and it's very unfair."

"I think she has very pleasant after effects in mind for you, Jasper," Bella said back sweetly.

"I hate you," Alice said, while Jasper laughed.

"Good night, fair Bella," he told her then, bending to kiss her hand. His long caramel curls tickled her arm.

Bella bid good night to them both, and then turned to Edward, who was watching her with his long fingers tucked in his pockets. His tie had been loosened and the first two buttons were unclasped, and he looked disheveled and heavenly.

"Must you leave?" she whispered, holding out her hand for the boy that held her heart.

"Carlisle pressed upon me how improper it would be for me to stay the night," he said, his disagreement evident through his tone. "But if I could wish for anything, it would be to have you close to me this night."

She reached up on her toes, and didn't wait for his kiss. She took it instead, demanding his physicality, and he was only too happy to give. His hands grabbed her cheeks and then his long fingers, dexterity incarnate, wrapped themselves in her hair as her lips opened under his.

"Bella," he groaned, pressing their bodies close as ethically possible in the lobby of a hotel. "I have to have you, I have to," he breathed between harsh presses and grabs of their lips. "I must have you."

"You do have me," she insisted, pushing back against him.

That stopped his frenzied kisses, and he smiled at her. "Oh, Bella. I know, sweetheart." He dropped a kiss on her forehead, her cheeks and her lips once more. "Forgive me."

She grabbed at his hand. "What did I say?"

He palmed her cheek and drew a long finger underneath her eye. "Nothing at all. You merely reminded me of the respect an innocence such as yours deserves. The respect a woman such as yourself deserves."

It took her a good thirty minutes after Edward left to figure out what he meant. His gasps declaring his need to have her, instead of making her feel warm and lovely like they had, now made her feel hot and desirous.

He wanted her, and that was not nearly as terrifying as it should have been.

XxXxX

_The shiny city of Seattle, Washington has held a lot for me. I've been nothing but grateful for the opportunities to be closer to Carlisle and Esme, because even if they do not know it, I look up to them greatly. Not only as role models, but as people in general – Esme with her sweet, Southern grace and quick smiles and Carlisle with his fatherly elegance and dashing good looks. _

Bella chewed absently on her fingernail as she read over her words. She was still in her dress, and it was nearly midnight. She had been writing furiously for the past hour about her observations and musings, and only now was the absence of words allowing her body to slow down. She yawned.

_Maybe I'm a fool to expect so little from Edward. Or maybe everyone else is a fool to not see him change our expectations before our very eyes. _

A slight knock on the door drew Bella out of her reverie, and she eyed it curiously before tiptoeing over to answer it. She glanced through the peephole.

Then the door was open, and she was being cradled in strong arms that smelled of soap and turpentine, and she was finally home.

"I thought you left!" she gasped as his lips trailed over her neck and into the dip of her collarbone.

"I drove around Seattle for awhile, waiting for Carlisle to go to sleep," he whispered, shutting the door behind him with a kick of his foot. "Oh, Bella, I couldn't go…"

"Don't ever," she said fiercely, and they fell and tripped and stumbled and landed onto her bed, laughing against each others' mouths and moaning against each others' lips.

His hands found the soft swell of her breasts, and she encouraged him with a moan. He squeezed her softly while delivering the softest kiss she had ever received, so sweet that it ached the marrow of her bones and the nucleus of her cells.

"Edward," she said, putting her hands against his chest and drawing him back. She stared at him, his red swollen lips and his flyaway hair and she loved him so much it hurt. "I have to have you, too."

"Oh, Bella," he said, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers. "You silly, beautiful girl. You have me, sweetheart. All of me. I swear to you. I'm yours." Then he kissed her again, and it was different, like relinquishing at the end of a long war.

"Please," she begged, not knowing what she needed.

But he did. He undid the zipper of her dress and kissed down her bare back. She was embarrassed of her plain white bra and sheer panties, but the way he stared at her exposed flesh was of a drowning man finding a raft.

He kissed her rosy nipples until she was squirming, and then he ran his tongue down her body until he was between her legs and laughing at her resistance to open them.

"Bella," he laughed. "What's wrong?"

"That's… what are you… you're not…" She fought for words beyond her embarrassment of he kissing her _down there._

"Let me," he whispered. "If you don't like it, I promise I'll stop."

"Edward…"

"Every inch of you is beautiful. Let me show you that." He ran a finger down the damp line between her legs, and they fell open of their own volition. "Lift up," he whispered, kissing her stomach.

She lifted her hips and he scooted off her panties. When he parted her thighs again, she put her hands over her eyes and refused to look. He laughed again, and his warm breath blew across her and she whimpered.

She felt a warm pressure against her, and she bucked against the sharp flick of his tongue. "Oh," she cried, pressing her hands against her eyes even harder. His next touch was lighter, smoother, fluid. She could hardly believe it was his _tongue_ doing this to her, the same sharp tongue that had made her cry the first week she was in Forks.

"Bella," he groaned against her thigh. "Your noises… you're so responsive, and it's driving me crazy."

She was half-mad with want at that point, and the void in her body was throbbing to be completed. "Please," she begged again, needing something – anything.

He slid one long finger inside of her, and they both made a low noise. It was what she needed, and when he put his mouth back on her, her hips were grinding and moving and lifting and falling and she was so, so, so –

"Oh!" she cried, as she twisted her hips against his tongue, riding out her orgasm on pure instinct. "Oh my God, oh god…" She moved her hand, and Edward was smiling at her from between her legs, clearly pleased with himself.

"Shut up," she laughed. "I feel all sticky."

He had a washcloth for her a few seconds later, making her legs twitch helplessly with every swipe of warm water. Then he wiped his face with a bawdy raise of his eyebrows, and she blushed so hard she was redder than temptation.

He crawled into the bed next to her and wrapped her up in his arms and blankets. She nestled against his warm chest, and she knew no more.

"Wake up, Bella."

She groaned against the warm voice in her ear, and rolled away. She hit a warm body and it laughed and drew her closer.

"Wake up, sweet girl. Please?"

She smiled in her sleep. She knew that voice. Her eyes opened tiredly, and there was Edward, grinning down at her.

"I have to go," he whispered, and she moaned her protest. "I know. I'll see you tomorrow, right? What time is Esme bringing you back to me?"

"We're leaving around noon," she said groggily. "Edward, take me with you. I don't want to stay another day."

"It's too tempting," he told her, brushing strands of hair away from her face. "Don't say those things, because sometimes I just want to scoop you up and take you far away from everything."

"Do it," she implored, too groggy for reality. "We can survive off of each other."

"Are you implying cannibalism?"

She groaned at his bad joke. "Go away."

"I will," he promised, kissing her nose. "I love you."

Her eyes flew open at that, and he was smiling down at her. "What did you say?"

"I said I love you, Bella."

"You love me."

"Irrevocably."

"_You_ love _me."_

"You _own_ me, Isabella. Now go back to sleep."

"You love me," she whispered again, touching his face.

"I love you," he agreed, "although I thought you were much more intelligent than this. Maybe I will have to rethinkmmmmmphhh."

She kissed him too hard for his sarcasm to continue.

XxXxX

On the way back from Seattle, Esme, Carlisle and Bella stopped for lunch in Port Angeles. They decided on the little Italian restaurant, Bella Italia, and Kate was once again their server.

Kate spoke to Carlisle and Esme warmly, and when Esme inquired why Kate looked so familiar, she looked down for a moment before replying.

"I'm Tanya's sister. Your Edward's Tanya."

Carlisle and Esme shared a quick glance before Carlisle recovered. "Of course you are. You're just as lovely. How is your family?"

Kate smiled. "We're doing fine, thank you, Dr. Cullen. Your meals will be out soon."

Esme tried to distract Bella with a conversation about the history of northern Washington, but Bella couldn't get the words "your Edward's Tanya" out of her mind, as if they were on a scratched record.

Bella walked out to the parking lot as Carlisle and Esme paid for their lunch. She spotted Kate and her bright red hair leaning against her car smoking.

On the back windshield was a huge decal that read:

_In Loving Memory of Tanya Elaine Denali_

Bella took in a deep breath, knowing that it was time for Edward to answer some questions.


	17. Painting Your Curves in My Hand

Another 5000 words for you, and in a lot less time. Thank you to everyone who deserves thanks - my lovely betas, my reviewers and everyone who has taken the time to favorite me, recommend me, have wet dreams about me, etc. You all are the best.

I have some announcements, so I will see you down below Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I write the words, and Stephenie Meyer owns the characters.

* * *

**Painting Your Curves in My Hand**

"It'll be okay," Bella whispered, her head resting on Angela's shoulder as the taller girl sniffled. Alice handed Angela a box of tissues from across the room, and they shared a sad smile.

Bella and Alice had been in the Weber's backyard, mingling with classmates at Ben's going away party when they had noticed the absence of a very main component. Angela's sweet voice was nowhere to be heard, so they had abandoned their burgers and searched for their friend.

They found her in her room, curled up on her bed and crying her blue heart out. They had immediately gone into action, curling up with her and stroking her hair and promising things they couldn't ever know, but were responsible for assuring just because they were her closest friends.

"Of course it will," said Alice. She was looking a bit melancholy herself.

Angela laughed a bit and blotted the tissue under her glasses. "Do you two really believe that? Do you really… do you think that your first love can be your last love, too?"

Bella looked up at the ceiling as she composed her answer. She knew people changed as they grew – melted and reformed, turned to ash and built themselves back out of the dust. Through all that tumultuousnes, could one love remain in your heart, preserved like Pompeii in ash and mortar?

She thought of Edward, the only love she had ever known. Could she love him forever? She remembered his vibrant verdant eyes as they all but made love to her, as they did nothing but make love to his canvas. She recounted his soft words and his retracting to silly antiquated speech to match her excited formalities. Could she ever love someone the way she loved him, blindly and vulnerably and completely? He was moody and weird and insufferable, but she put all of her heart inside of him and hoped she would never have to sculpt a new one from scratch.

"I think it can," Bella said finally, squeezing Angela's arm. "If the one you love never stops loving you, and you two always want the same thing – or at least can compromise… what's stopping it?"

Alice laughed a little. "You're talking to the girl who is dating her stepbrother."

Both Angela and Bella cringed, their societal integration always making that tidbit of information difficult to swallow.

"Not only dating," Alice continued, "but unbelievably, ridiculously in love with. Everyone who hears our story thinks we're sick… but at least we're sick together."

"You two aren't sick," Bella said firmly. "But you are an amazing woman to continue in the face of adversity. People are cruel when they don't understand something…anything. And Angela, my heart is torn for you. But you are wasting precious time crying, time you could be laughing." She sat up and grabbed Angela's hand, who groaned in half-hearted protest.

"I look awful, Bella…" Angela straightened her glasses. "I'm sorry, Alice. You did all of this mascara for nothing."

Alice waved her hand. "Maybe you could get Edward to paint you like this. You look dramatic and war-like, with all the black streaks down your face. Are you comfortable doing nudes?" She nudged Angela in the side, and she laughed, shaking her head at Alice's ridiculousness.

The mention of Edward and painting and nudes cast her back to the conversation she was putting off. She and Edward had been so close the past week. They draped themselves in his bed as he did small sketches of her hands or toes and she would tell him stories of cactuses and one hundred degree summers. Then he would gather her to him and kiss her breathless and dizzy, and inspect her body for symmetry.

In all of that beauty, she found no room for the ugly realities of death. But the joking reminder Alice laid upon her punched her in the gut and she was momentarily blinded by the whole conversation, the possibility that this conversation may be too much for Edward to tell and too much for Bella to not hear and that would be it.

Her colorful summer would turn dull just like the leaves on the trees.

Shaking her sensible head, she grabbed hold of a mascara-free Angela and a giggling Alice. "Let's go back out into the sunshine, okay?"

They went, three-women strong, and the sunshine followed them to the backyard.

Alice drove Bella home in her cute little BMW, and they sang off-key to the Backstreet Boys the whole way there. She had words swimming inside her, stronger than she had felt this whole summer.

She had missed writing, but it had taken a back seat to falling in love. If she had been mid-sentence and Edward had called her, the Moleskine would sit waiting for the completion of the thought Bella rarely gave.

But tonight she needed her words. She waved goodbye to Alice and walked into the light rain that had succumbed to the Washington evening. Charlie's cruiser was in the driveway, and she called out a hello as she wiped her boots on the mat.

Jacob came around the corner, and her heart lightened at the sight of the beetle-black eyes that shined at her.

"Oh, Jacob!" she cried, running to her friend and hugging his neck. "It's so good to see you. Is Billy here?"

"Nope," Jacob said, helping her take off her coat. "I was doing some construction downtown and Charlie picked me up when I was done. Said you might be able to be talked into making us hard-working men some dinner…"

"Oh, did he now?" Bella said loudly, and a guilty chuckle met her ears from over the sound of ESPN.

"I can help," Jacob enthused, tying his long obsidian hair off his neck. "Emily has been showing me how to do some stuff…"

"Who's Emily?" Bella inquired, walking into the kitchen with Jacob on her heels. She tied her own hair back and washed her hands.

"Sam's girlfriend. Remember Sam?"

"Vaguely," Bella answered, trying to remember the swarm of names associated with the Quileutes.

"Yeah, so anyway, his girlfriend has been showing me how to cook basic stuff." He rubbed his hands together. "So, what are we making?"

Bella clicked her tongue as she rummaged through the cabinets. "Um, I have tortillas in here, and some refried beans… I think there's some burger I could thaw. Maybe burritos? I know we have some El Paso in there…"

And they were off, Jacob frying hamburger and Bella grating cheese and Charlie snacking on the salsa and chips that had been spread out on the table. When they sat down thirty minutes later, Bella felt the odd pull to say grace and joined hands with everyone.

"Dear Heavenly Father, there are many things I have to say grace for. You have blessed me this summer beyond anything. But most especially, thank you for these people in front of me. They are my past and present and future, and have made me who I am and who I will be. Amen."

Charlie looked mysteriously misty-eyed as he asked for the Texas Pete.

Jacob left around nine that night, after Bella had to pinky swear she would make it down to La Push more often. Charlie gave Jacob a ride home, and Bella found herself in the middle of a quiet house in a rainstorm.

It had been so long since she had been entirely alone. The whole summer had been full of laughter and color and hearts so full their beats ticked in her ears like a metronome. But it was silent except for the water on the roof and the occasional distant rumble of thunder, and when she sat down on her bed she sighed with relief as her soul opened up and language poured out.

_I once proclaimed myself not beautiful. I look in the mirror and see the same dark eyes, the same dark hair that only has beauty in the sun I never see. I still see the ivory skin, the color of cream beaten into submission, and the soft, slender body that sees no workout plan. _

_But it changes you when someone looks at you and calls you beautiful and means it with all their heart. It makes you take notice of the things they might see as beautiful. I have not done this; I refuse to stand in front of the mirror and count the things Edward sees as beautiful. Rather, I sit quietly and feel the insistence of his words permeating _

Her cell phone buzzed, and she groaned quietly. She had forgotten about that thing, and she had been working up something truly profound – probably – and ugh, just…

She snatched it up and read the one new text message.

_Your heart is missed._

She looked at her notebook, waiting for her words. Heaving a great sigh, she replied, knowing the second she read his text message she would be distracted.

_How could it be? It is with you._

The front door opened downstairs, and Charlie called up to her.

"Up here, Dad," she called.

She heard his thunking footsteps on the stairs, and then he peeked his moustached face into her room. "I'm gonna call it a night, Bell. Leave me a note if you head out, okay?"

She looked to the window, which was half-open. Through it, the downpour could be heard quite easily. "I doubt I will. It's coming down pretty hard."

He nodded. "Sure is. If you do head out, be careful. If not… well, either way, see you in the morning."

She told him goodnight, and by the time he had closed her door, her phone vibrated in her hand.

_Let me see you._

It had been a few days since their last time together. She had been spending a lot of time with Angela and Alice, planning the party and getting in good 'girl' time. Edward had been invited to the party but had not attended; he had gone to an art class in Port Angeles he had paid for months in advance.

_Come to me._

He replied very quickly.

_Come to, for, with… I am yours. _

She swallowed heavily, and smiled through her reply.

_Hurry._

She unlocked the door when she heard the quiet knocking half an hour later, and her heart's beat swooped into the living room, dripping with freezing rain.

"You're soaked," she gasped as he pressed them together.

"You're amazingly warm," he answered, cupping her face with his icy hands and kissing her soundly. "I've missed you. You smell wonderful."

She laughed at his strange compliment. "Quiet. Charlie's sleeping. Kick off your shoes; they're soaked straight through. Edward, really, did you walk here or something?"

"I was looking at the color the rain made when it hit the light of your porch lamp. It was this incredible color, like it was raining fire. I must have stood there for five minutes, just staring. I'm sorry, Bella…" He grinned as she tutted and forced him to walk up the stairs.

"You're going to catch a cold," she scolded as she closed the door to her room behind them. "I have some dry things in here that will fit you, hold on… you left those clothes and I washed them, remember? Hmmm.." She rummaged through her bottom drawer and came up with a t-shirt and flannel PJ pants. "Here. Change."

She meant in the bathroom, but he peeled his shirt over his head right there, and it landed with a wet slap against her wood floor.

"I'm f-f-f-freezing," he moaned, and she put her warm hand on his chest. "Bella. That's amazingly pleasant, the warmth. Hmmm…"

"You look different," she said, feeling the line running down the middle of his stomach that wasn't there before. The line separated two groups of muscles that felt hard under her palm.

"I might have been… ah, um… doing some crunches? I know my physique is not, oh, Bella… um, exactly desirable? I'm thin, and my hipbones are so protuberant, so, I thought…" He swallowed as her fingernails traced every new line she had not yet memorized.

"I loved you before this," she told him.

"I know," he gasped as she tugged on the soft hair between his navel and waistband.

"I would have continued to love you with your boney hips and flat stomach for years and maybe forever," she whispered.

"Oh, sweetheart…"

"But you look… incredible," she said. "I can't believe you did this for me."

He kissed her. "Your body is a work of art. I could only hope that one day, you would see mine as such."

And once again, the nude form being a work of art drew her back into sharp relief. Tanya. Questions. Answers.

She drew back and watched him change. He pulled the shirt on over his head, and she tried not to stare too long when he dropped his soaked jeans – boxers included – and slipped the pajama bottoms on. She handed him a random shirt to dry his hair a bit, and he smiled warmly at her.

"I love when you nag me."

She swallowed and tried to smile around the words threatening to spill from her overeager lips.

"Let's sit," she said, gesturing to the messy pile of pillows and sheets that was her bed. Her notebook fell as the mattress bounced with their weight, and she hoped she could return to it tonight or tomorrow with good news to tell.

He could sense her mood like he sensed his palette's direction. "Bella?"

"Edward…" She took a deep breath and twisted her fingers. "I need to ask you something, and it's very… it's something I need to know."

He closed his eyes. "Okay."

"When Esme and Carlisle and I came back from Seattle, we stopped by Bella Italia for lunch. We saw Kate."

He blew out a huge gust of air and dropped his head in his hands, Atlas exhausted.

"When I went outside, she was leaning against her car. On her car was a decal that was in remembrance of her sister, Tanya."

He seemed to choke on his next breath. "Oh God…"

"I know she died. I know she was… close to you, in some way. Edward, I'm sorry. I can't imagine… no one close to me has died. But she is so closed off in your life, and I'm afraid to love you when I have to love your secrets, too."

"She…" he croaked out. "I met her when we still lived in Alaska. I was young, maybe barely sixteen, and she was eighteen and beautiful. Something inside me…" He looked up at Bella finally, and his eyes were a mournful pink. "It wasn't the first attraction I'd held. But it was the strongest. When I went home, I picked up my paintbrush with the intent of painting a human being for the first time in years."

Bella's heart cracked. "Edward…"

"We became friends. We eventually became lovers. I wasn't in love with her, but I was in love with what she made me to do my canvas. She was inspiration; she was my muse."

"Okay," Bella said. "You don't have to say anything else. Thank you, Edward. Thank you." She drew her to him; his lanky body was shivering from the cold or the emotional upheaval. But she loved his raw, broken heart, every piece of it, and she held him close and told him without words.

It took him minutes or maybe hours to stop shaking. She smoothed his damp hair back from his face and kissed his forehead and murmured how much she loved him, how beautiful he was and that she would never, ever leave him.

"You never give up on me," he whispered finally, his hot breath on her neck.

"I couldn't," she told him.

"I love you, Bella."

If she could find words for emotions such as the ones that swooped in her stomach at those words, at his earnest expression, at his gritty voice, she would write them over and over again until they were memorized for a time they might be gone.

"Will you come to my house tomorrow night? Will you lie to your father, and tell him Alice demands your attention, when I will be usurping it all night?"

He ran his hand over her hair and kissed her until she couldn't say no.

XxXxX

"Good evening, Bella," Carlisle said as Bella walked through the front door, overnight bag in hand.

"Hello," she said happily. "You look all dressed up!"

Carlisle was in a suit, and was about to answer when Esme walked in, fastening an earring. "Carlisle, have you seen my… oh, Bella! Hi, sweet."

"You look beautiful," Bella breathed, taking in the sight of Esme in a long black gown.

Esme beamed. "We decided to get out for the night. We're going to dinner, and then staying at this little inn on the water in Port Angeles."

"That sounds wonderful," Bella said earnestly, but her mind was working much like a seventeen-year-old girl's does. _The grown ups were leaving the building._

"I think Alice is up in her room," Carlisle said after locating his wife's clutch wordlessly. "That is who you're here for, correct?"

She flushed at his knowing smile. "Yes, of course."

"Of course," Esme repeated. "Have a fun night, Bella."

"You too!" She watched as Carlisle led Esme out the door with a hand on the small of her back, and smiled at their easy affection.

Then she turned back to the stairs, facing them and what was waiting for her. She climbed them silently, not wanting to alert any of the other house members of her presence. Alice knew she was coming over, but Bella had promised Edward her undivided attention.

His voice invited her to come in after she knocked, so she did, dropping her overnight bag by the door. The thud announced her presence, and Edward turned away from his window and smiled.

"Hi," he whispered through the darkness.

She looked around his dim room, noticing the various paints strewn about the different surfaces.

"Why did you ask me to come?" she asked.

He gestured wordlessly to his bed, and she walked over to it. He went to her and grabbed the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head. She gasped, thinking he was coming to her with sexuality, but then he stood back.

"Lie on your stomach," he instructed, and she did. His long fingers reached for the clasp of her bra, and then that was off too, hanging off the sides of her body. "Close your eyes."

She did and the warm bed and his familiar smell had her nearly lulled to sleep. But then the touch of something cold on her back made her all but yelp.

She almost asked, but she knew. He was painting on her.

She had stripped him last night, all the way down to the scorching red pulse of his worst, and tonight he was stripping her the only way he knew how: painting her bare.

"Just relax," he told her, and how could she not? She was loved, and she loved him, and he was making her into his art.

He hummed tunelessly as his painting on her back became wider, arching and dropping and looping and centering over her shoulder blades, and then peaking down her spine. Tips of the painting were on the backsides of her arms, and more than once she inquired what he was painting. But he kept telling her to shush with a smile in his voice.

Finally, after nearly an hour, he sat back on his heels.

"You're finished," he told her, his voice gruff from not being used.

She awoke from her trance, and turned to smile at him. "My whole back feels either crusty or wet."

He grinned. "I used the paints you got me for my birthday. Any complaints can be directed to yourself."

She stood, crossing her arms over her bare chest in modesty. She walked over to his bathroom, flipped on the light and then turned around, peeking over her shoulder to see his work.

She nearly fell to her knees. Across her back were huge angel wings, pristine white and soft blue and extending from her arms to the dimples in her lower back. She made a little noise in her throat and her eyes clogged with tears and she wanted nothing but to open her wings and fly to him.

"Edward," she whispered, and he was there, holding her to him, careful not to touch her back. "Why? Why wings?"

He kissed her roughly, a sharp bruising sting on her lips. "So you can leave, Isabella. So you can fly away from here and never look back. It's what you deserve, that opportunity to spread your wings."

"I will not go anywhere without you," she said fiercely, the tears that had just prickled her eyes now leaving rivulets of water down her cheeks. "You are the whole reason I want to fly."

He looked at her, his eyes as green and open as their meadow. "I will never understand why you chose me."

"You don't have to, as long as you let me have you."

He cupped her face. "Have me," he whispered, and the night took on a whole new hue.

His shirt came off, and she ran her hands up the foreign hard planes of his stomach as he kissed her. Her heart was pounding so loudly she could barely hear anything, but the subdued groans in the back of Edward's throat she wouldn't miss for the world.

They made their way back to the bed, and Bella laid herself down on his sheets before realizing what she had done. She made to get up, sick over destroying his covers and painting in one go, but he pushed her back down.

"Stay where you are," he whispered, and then sucked the peak of her breast into his hot mouth. His hand came around to her back, and she felt the paint smear even more against his palm.

"But, Edward…" She gasped as he flicked his tongue at the other nipple.

"But, Bella…" he laughed. "Shush, sweetheart." He put his hand on her thigh, and the paint that had been on his large palm followed his trail, smearing white and blue paint all over her leg and stomach.

He pushed his hair back from his forehead, and more paint was rubbed on his face. Pretty soon, they were both panting and covered in colors, kissing and touching and not believing what was about to happen, what they were about to succumb to.

He readied her the best he could, pushing a finger inside of her until she was writhing with the pleasure and the discomfort. He kissed her clit until she was soothed, and she palmed him until he was hard and smooth in her fingers.

She swallowed as he reached across her to his nightstand and pulled out a condom.

"Are you okay with this? Say the word, and we'll stop, and I'll love you just as much tomorrow." He wiped the sweat off of her brow, waiting for her response.

"Have me," she said, repeating his words from earlier.

She bit her lip as she watched him roll the condom onto himself, and then she felt the weight of his body against her torso as he positioned himself between her legs.

"It's going to hurt," he whispered. "You're so tight, even with a finger… Bella. Hold on to my back, and dig your nails in, and we will bleed together."

She grasped his sweaty back as he asked, and he went to push himself in but missed. He laughed at himself, and so did she, and it relieved some of the tension in their bodies. When he pushed again, his aim was true, and her laughter was cut-off in a gasp as she scratched his back.

"Ow," she groaned. The stretching pain was terrible – it felt like an invasion of her body, like someone in a car accident impaled by a pole. It stung, too, like hell, and Edward's hips were rocking slightly, and he was grunting, and it all felt so ridiculous –

"I love you, Bella. I want to show you how much. Relax and let me," he whispered against her ear, and his sweet warm breath made her forget to be in pain.

He gasped and slid forward, and something sharp snapped inside of her and she cried out.

"Oh, this is going to be embarrassing," he chuckled breathlessly against her ear.

"Why?" she asked, her eyes screwed up from the discomfort.

"Because… you feel… Bella, tell me when I can start moving."

"Move," she urged him, wondering if some friction would take the pain away.

His first thrust was tentative, and it didn't take the pain away. Instead, it hinted at a sweetness that could be hers if she would only wait for it. She knew she would get nothing from this experience but a vague undertone of pleasure, so she watched Edward take his.

His eyes were closed and his mouth was open and his breath left him and came back to him in great bursts. His thrusts were a bit choppy, like he was getting back on a horse he forgot how to ride, but maybe that was how sex was supposed to go? It was not long – maybe two and a half minutes – before he started making the most beautiful noises an ear could pick up. Desperate moans mingled with her name, and soon his choppy thrusts turned into one, two, three harder jabs of his hips, and then he was on top of her, twitching and exhausted.

"I'm sorry," he said into her sweaty neck. "I'm sorry it couldn't be good. I tried…"

He picked himself up, and when he pulled out of her, she twitched a bit in discomfort. Everything felt raw and throbbing, and he fetched a warm washcloth for her. He washed her up tenderly, kissing her thighs and making her giggle by making fun of his own stamina.

When he climbed back into bed, she thought of his words, his apologies on it not being good enough. He drew her close to him, and she rested her head on his chest and listened to the heart she now knew was hers.

He apologized for it not being good. But she couldn't think of how it could be better.

* * *

Hi! Some orders of business.

I keep forgetting to mention that I have a twitter account. My name is **pinkeveningsky** on Twitter, and I often give away way too much on there. If you like that sort of thing, or about me bemoaning my life, go ahead and follow me. :)

Second order of business. I am beta-ing a brand new fic called Rhyme&Reason by a brand new author, prettypisces. Bella was dumped right before she went off to college, and it's a story of discovering yourself in a setting you're newly discovering. Plus, she's let me read ahead, and let me just say this: Bohemian Poetward who is actually NICE and LIKABLE. Crazy, I know. The fic is listed in my favorites. Check it out!

Last order of business, I am selling myself to slavery. Well, writing slavery. I am a part of the Fandom Gives Back Author Auction. My thread with the specifics can be found here: http : / tinyurl . com / yanwhhw (without the spaces, of course). Want a POV of Bare in Edward's POV? Want me to continue with my one-shot, The Queen of Hearts? Want a completely original fic you've thought of and would like me to write? It can be all yours!

Thanks for reading my lengthy notes. I love you all.

- Stella


	18. Burning Like A Bridge

Hi! Everyone doing well? Thanks so much for sticking with me. I know I'm not the most frequent updater, and I can't tell you how much the love and support means to me. I try to reply to reviews whenever I can, but even if I don't get to yours, know that my eyes have run over it and my lips have formed a smile. Thanks to everyone who's ever said a kind word about this story.

Exciting news - I was bought in the author auction! I'm not sure if the ladies want me to disclose their names or the amount they paid, but just know it was so generous I almost cried. I never dreamed I would get a bid! And to have it go to cancer research... I can't tell you how much it means to me.

This chapter was written in about five hours and it is one hundred percent unbeta'd. My betas are doing more important things, like sleeping, and while I can't blame them... I wanted to get this out for all of you. Any mistakes are mine, so feel free to scream at me. But even though they didn't help with this chapter, **doitforyou** and** prettypisces** keep me sane more than I could ever tell you. (Are you reading Rhyme&Reason by prettypisces yet? If not, get to it! It's listed under my favorites. Poetward, mmm.)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Taylor's abs, or Rob's weird nipple during the Volterra undressing scene (seriously wtf, didn't anyone notice that? take two, please!), or any recognizable characters.

* * *

**Burning Like A Bridge**

When Bella woke up, she was disoriented. Her hair was being blown back from her face in rhythmic bursts of breath, and the apex of her thighs was sore and tender as she rolled over. But she was warm and against smooth sweaty skin, so she kissed it.

Edward hummed contentedly and drew her closer in his sleep, and she laughed against his chest. She was nearly choking, but it didn't stop him from being completely adorable. She felt alive in love and power.

He rolled over onto his back and she came with him due to his unbreakable hold on her small form. She was plopped haphazardly against his chest and he snuffled against her hair happily.

She couldn't wipe the smile off her face. She wanted her notebook with her at that instant so she could write down everything about this moment – the smell of his sheets, the feel of his skin, the grip he had on her waist. She adjusted again, and all was well until she lost her bearing and fell, landing hard on his… on his…

"Holy _fucking_ Moses!" Edward was awake instantly, doubled over, clutching his morning wood in his fist and cursing at an alarming rate. "Isa_bella_," he growled.

"I'm… I'm sorry," she said miserably, knowing for certain she was a moment ruiner. And she was a bit ashamed of herself for appreciating the aesthetics of his long fingers wrapped around his… his… _oh, he's_ injured_, Bella! You deserve to be shot!_

"What… what happened," he groaned, running his fingers up and down himself.

She watched his digits progress over the slightly pinked skin, the color of dawn's discovery. She held her lips between her teeth and didn't look away until he snickered.

"Bella," he chastised. She looked up, squeaked at the caddish smile on his face, and rolled away with her flaming cheeks between her hands. "Are you watching me?"

"Just making sure you are uninjured…" she mumbled through her fanned fingers.

He rolled her onto her back and pinned her with his hips. They were both still naked, and she was blushing poesy purple at the thought of all of the skin moving around and jostling and it was awkward and strange to feel so comfortable yet so aware of every inch –

"You know how to make sure," he said in a low voice, adorably seductive, his uninjured erection scraping along her inner thigh.

"Uh, no – "

"Kiss it and make it better."

Bella scrunched her brow together, wondering why he was staring down at her with such a wicked smile. Then she understood and she shoved at his chest and he backed away, cackling as he ran to his bathroom.

Ten minutes later, they were both brushed and combed and covered by a sheet as they tried to fall back into sleep. It was still early – barely eight-thirty – and Edward had to be up by noon. Something had awakened in him within the last few days. He had been to numerous art classes, and at two-thirty, he was even guest teaching at one in downtown Forks.

She could tell he was almost asleep; he was breathing contentedly against her collarbone and dragging his lips against the high plane of her chest, murmuring out of key songs that were too blue for her fire filtered heart.

It was then she decided to attack. Before she had time to think, she shot her hand under the covers and wrapped her pale fist around Edward's dwindling morning wood.

His eyes shot open immediately and he made a noise as though he had swallowed his tongue. "Bella," he gasped, his voice holding both a question and desire.

"I'm… going to kiss it and make it better," she whispered, and then drew the sheet away from his body. He looked so large in her small hand, and she stared at it for a moment before maneuvering herself between his thighs.

"You don't have to do this."

She giggled.

"What?" he groaned as she tightened her fist around him and dragged her hand up slowly.

"It's too late for my virtue, Edward." Then she looked at him again, the head nearly purple with pounding blood. A vein stuck out and she could feel the red cells humming underneath her palm. She tentatively reached out her tongue and licked at the shiny liquid coating the tiny opening.

Edward's eyes rolled back into his head. She laughed, delighted with herself.

"Yes, yes, you're very brilliant," he groaned. "Bella…"

"I don't know what to do," she whispered. "I'm going to try first. Then you can direct me if I'm doing it wrong."

"Are you even real," he warbled, shutting his eyes.

She tasted the tip again, and then placed it into her mouth. She sucked lightly, embarrassed at the wet noise it made. But Edward did not seem to hear anything but his pulse. She could not take much in her mouth without wanting to gag, so Edward taught her how to pump just so in time with her mouth's ministrations, and soon his hips were lifting off the bed.

In fact, his hips lifted so hard he thrust himself into her throat and she had to move back immediately, gagging and coughing.

"_Fuck,"_ he groused, "I'm sorry, sweetheart, so sorry… but I'm so close, please…"

She shook her head; he was irresistible in his pleasure. So she put him back into her mouth and stroked him a couple more times before he was warning her.

"Bella, pull back, you won't like it, Bella, Bella – _fuck!"_

The first taste wasn't awful; her mouth was so diluted with spit that it barely made a difference. But then a second stream hit her, and then a third, and she was disgustingly reminded of milking a cow.

She couldn't swallow it. She couldn't. It was so thick and salty and bitter, and –

"Bathroom, Bella!" he laughed, watching her confusion as she didn't know what to do with it.

She held up her thumbs in a 'are you good' gesture and he laughed harder and nodded. She ran to the bathroom and spit, and vowed after she brushed her teeth at least seven times… he wouldn't be laughing when she was through with him.

But when she got back into his room, he was so snuggly and carefree she couldn't be bothered.

XxXxX

_I keep looking over at the painting Edward gave me. It's hanging on my wall, above my dresser where a mirror would be if I were beautiful. The painting is beautiful in itself. My boyfriend – my boyfriend, God, still so weird – is endlessly talented. His concept of colors speak louder than any words I could ever write. But it's what he painted that captures me today._

_I wrote about my first time to him months ago, - newness and nudity, foreign feelings and fingers – without having any idea what it was even like to feel his oil-worn digits against my skin. Before I knew that lips could be both demanding and yielding, passionately red and gently pink. _

_Last night I surrendered myself completely to the most beautiful boy I have ever seen. A boy who doesn't care that my stomach isn't completely flat; a boy who doesn't care that I have pale white lines against my hips where my skin stretched faster than it was ready to. A boy who doesn't care that my hair frizzes up around my head in the rain; a boy who doesn't care that I sound like a total idiot whenever he touches me. _

_A boy who taught me about beauty without being able to see it in himself. _

_When he told me about Tanya, my stomach twisted into tons of black knots. To hear him talk about her, his lover… the woman who taught him how to touch me so sweetly, the woman who got to see his first orgasm. And then I want to fling myself from something tall even thinking that way – she is gone, and it is a mystery why. _

_The pieces are slowly coming together. Edward is afraid of painting me because he does not want to steal my soul – he told me that much all those days ago in his meadow as he replicated the scene perfectly on his small canvas. His parents died after he painted them. He painted Tanya, and she died. _

_I get it. But how do I tell him that these things are just coincidences? How do you tell King Midas that maybe this time, I won't turn to gold at his touch?_

_It's impossible what I'm asking. He has had so much loss in his life, and I'm not silly enough to think my love can fill that particular void. I just hope my love will make him want to fill that void himself, with forgiveness and carrying on. _

_He has to paint me, and I'll stay alive. That's all I know._

_XxXxX  
_

"Esme's Interiors."

Esme looked at Bella expectantly from where she sat opposite of Bella's desk. They had been going over a floor plan when the phone rang.

"It's Mrs. Stanley again," Bella said after putting her on hold. "She demands your attention."

Esme rolled her eyes. "Of course she does. Are you sure you don't see any flaws with this?" She pointed a French manicured nail back to the blue paper.

Bella shook her head. "No, although I have absolutely no training, as you know." She bit her lip. "I'm confused why you keep asking me these questions. I only answer the phones." She smiled, shaking her head.

"Because your eye is filtered to my designs," Esme answered. "The only world of interior design you know is through the eye I've given you. It helps wane out the B.S." Esme patted her hand. "And because I just trust your opinion in general. I'll go help the Stanley monster."

Bella laughed as Esme got up grudgingly to take the call in her office. Just before Esme closed the door, Bella called out.

"Esme?"

Esme poked her beautiful face back out the door. "Yes, sweet?"

"Do you think love is like that?" At Esme's confused look, Bella continued. "I was just wondering… do you think the reason first love fails so often is because you only see it through the eye of that love, without prior knowledge or experience?"

Esme smiled. "This is way too heavy of a conversation when I have the monster on the other line. I'll be back in a second."

Bella put her water bottle to her lips, wondering what she had just gotten herself in to. When Esme came back out, she had a very big smile on her face. She sat across from Bella again, crossing her legs at the ankle and leaning back.

"I'm just going to assume this conversation has to do with my beautiful son."

Bella laughed, thinking of his eyes, derry down green as he made love to her. "I'd say so."

"You love him," Esme confirmed, the smile still plastered on her face.

"This is so embarrassing…"

"Sorry," Esme said, trying to reign in her excitement. "What was the question, Bella?"

Bella gestured wordlessly with her hands for a few moments. "It's like… you said you constantly ask me opinions because I'm waned to your eye. Do people stay in love because of that? Without any other experience in love?"

"You want to know if first love lasts forever."

Bella nodded, looking down at her black slacks and tugging at a loose thread.

Esme contemplated this carefully. "I'm forty years old, and I've been in love four times."

Bella's stomach dropped. She was afraid of this answer. She wanted so much to believe she could love Edward forever – how could she not?

"There was my first love, Garrett. Then there was my college affair with a French exchange student, Laurent." Esme gave a French wave, and Bella giggled. "Then there was Peter, who I married… as you know. And now, my husband, Carlisle."

"He is your last love," Bella confirmed.

"Absolutely," Esme said without a beat. "He will be the last man I'll ever love. I feel like, for me, love is kind of like wine… it gets better with age. There is no way my first love and I could have worked out. We were not compatible – the only thing we had in common was that we were crazy about each other. Relationships like that are doomed, Bella. It sucks that practicality has to be put in love, but…" She shrugged.

"Practicality," Bella repeated.

"Yes," said Esme. "Like… will you still love him, still find him sexy and desirable after the first time you walk in on him in the bathroom because he didn't lock the door?"

"Esme!" Bella laughed, her cheeks flushing. "That's disgusting."

"_That_ is a fact of life," Esme said, pointing at nothing. "Gross stuff happens. Awkward stuff happens. He'll shrink your cashmere sweater in the dryer. He'll break your great-grandmother's china. He'll think it's funny to fart in bed. It's just…" Esme couldn't go on, because Bella was laughing too hard. "I'm serious!"

"God, _stop_… I'd like to hold on to my innocence a bit longer, please."

"But then I think about my children," Esme said, getting quiet. "When Carlisle and I decided to get married, we sat them down and had this huge talk with them. It was emotional and raw and I didn't know if we would survive it. We told them to not only think about the societal implications, the stares, the whispers… we told them to think about the fact that even if they didn't work out, they'd still be under the same roof. They'd still eat at the same dinner table. Still drive the same cars to school."

"I didn't even think about that," Bella said slowly.

Esme nodded. "But they shocked me with their strength, with their love for each other. They understand the awkwardness of love, of walking in on each other in the bathroom, of unshaved legs. Jasper looked at me, my newly-seventeen year old son, he looked at me and said, 'Mom, I'm gonna love that girl forever.' And Bella, that's such a common thing for someone to say. But I felt it. It's like he showed me that emotion, made me feel it for that second." She smiled. "Listen to me, getting off on a tangent. I guess what I'm trying to say is that love is so subjective, so relative to each person. To each relationship. It's up to you and Edward, whether or not it'll last forever."

"I can't imagine anyone else," Bella said honestly.

Esme put her hand over Bella's. "And for as long as you have that, don't."

XxXxX

"You made it!" Jacob hollered, running out of his little red house at top speed as Bella climbed out of her truck.

Bella laughed as Jacob scooped her up into a giant hug. "I made it, you animal," she teased as he set her back to earth. His giant black eyes were shining like obsidian, and she was caught up in his excitement.

She looped her arm through his elbow as they walked back up to the house. He was chattering the whole time, excited about the bonfire that was supposed to start at sundown.

"We've got so much food, and I swear you'll have some to eat. I told the guys they better be polite, with a pale face present." He squeezed her arm. "No savagery tonight."

"Don't say that," Bella warned, swatting his arm.

The night was filled with a hot, crackling fire, burnt hot dogs and blackened marshmallows. Bella made friends with the older boys of the tribe – Paul, Jared, Sam – and even Sam's beautiful girlfriend, Emily. She was full of happiness and stories as she allowed Jacob to tote her back to her truck around ten.

"I had so much fun," she told him. "Thank you so much for inviting me. Tell Billy I really appreciate everything…"

"Quiet, Bell. You're family. I'm just glad you finally stopped being a snob."

"Snob!" she shrieked as she climbed into her truck. "Like you would know anything about snobbery, Jacob Black." She put her keys in the ignition, but when she cranked, her truck gave a pathetic noise.

"Oh no," she wailed, trying again. It spluttered and heaved and died.

"Get out," Jacob said, going around to the hood. "Looks like you're S.O.L. I don't have my license yet, and Billy can't drive… obviously." He lifted the hood. "Looks like the battery's dead, and I loaned the Clearwaters our jumper cables."

"Great," Bella muttered.

"Go ahead and call Charlie. There's nothing I can do tonight." Jacob punched her shoulder gently. "Sorry, Bell."

It was past ten, and she knew Charlie was most likely asleep. So she called someone else, instead.

"Bella? I thought you were out on the reservation tonight." Edward's calm voice floated into her ears, ocean grey and peaceful.

"I was… am. My truck died, and…"

"_What?_ Are you okay? Where are you?"

"I'm fine," she said. He sounded so anxious. "I promise. Jacob doesn't have a license, and no one else brought cars, so I'm kind of stranded…"

"I'll be there in ten minutes." The phone line went dead. She was about to argue that it took at least fifteen minutes to get to La Push, but then she remembered his driving. No doubt he would be there soon.

"Who'd you call?" Jacob asked, letting down her tailgate so they could both sit.

"Edward," she answered, not thinking twice.

"A _Cullen?"_ Jacob spat, and she could almost see the hair standing up on his neck.

"A _Masen_, actually," she said back with just as much venom. "He's adopted. He doesn't have a mother, just like you. _Or_ a father. I won't listen to you talk bad about him."

"I… didn't know," Jacob said quietly after a moment. "I'm sorry. I know the stereotype isn't fair. I've thought a lot about what you said to me that day at the beach. But, Bella… I can't help it. She was my mother. His father, Carlisle… couldn't save her. I know he didn't kill her. But he didn't let her live, either."

Bella nodded thoughtfully. Perhaps that was how Edward felt about painting. He knew realistically that painting could never kill someone, but the circumstances surrounding it were too close to get over the stigma.

Sooner than Bella thought was possible, she heard tires on gravel. She looked up and Edward's silver Volvo was coasting over the bumpy yard, right up to the back of Bella's truck.

He jumped out and Bella was about to explain what had happened when he drew her to him and kissed her so fiercely she had to hold on to the tailgate so not to fall over.

"You scared me to death," he whispered, his voice as rough as the driveway. "I imagined you alone, on the side of the road…"

Jacob cleared his throat, and Bella blushed. Edward's white-hot intensity caused her to forget everything else.

"Edward Cullen," said Edward, sticking out his pale hand to Jacob. Jacob was his height, despite the age difference, and he was admittedly much thicker. But Edward held eye contact, knowing who he was and what it meant to be on the reservation.

"Jacob Black," Jacob responded finally, putting his large hand into Edward's. They shook briefly before Edward turned back to Bella.

"Do you have all of your things? Are you ready?"

"I'm ready," said Bella. She gave Jacob a hug. "Thanks for waiting with me."

"Anytime, Bell." He ruffled her hair. "And Edward?"

Edward turned around after shutting the door for Bella. Even still, she could hear Jacob's muffled voice perfectly.

"It was… good to meet you."

Edward smiled. "Thank you for taking care of Bella."

Jacob looked into the car at Bella, his eyes temporarily older than sixteen years. "Well… I could say the same for you."

"Please don't ever scare me like that again," Edward said quietly over Mozart's eighth symphony. He was driving her home slowly, the summer rain plinking against the windshield.

"I didn't mean to scare you," she said earnestly. "Next time I'll specify I'm all right before I tell you any other details." She didn't mean for it to come out as flippant as it did.

Edward sighed and ran his thumb over her knuckles. "I've been living on edge ever since I painted on you," he admitted. "I've been waiting for something to happen, and then when you called me, sounding all panicked and all I heard was _stranded_, Bella… I'm sorry. I know I'm prone to overreacting."

"Edward," she implored. "You can't live like this, waiting for an anvil to drop on my head!"

"I was supposed to drive Tanya home the night she died," he said suddenly. "But I couldn't because I was so caught up in finishing the painting of her that you saw. I got right out of bed, after we… you know. And I wouldn't budge, even though it was after midnight and she had to work the next day. She called her friend to come pick her up, and her friend had been at a party and was a little… intoxicated…"

"No," Bella whispered.

"I had just put the last touches on it when I got the phone call." He was gripping her hand so tightly she could see the white tips of her fingers straining for blood. "If I had just stopped, put the paint brush down… I swore I would never paint another, and I didn't even love her. I cared for her, yes. She gave me her body and let me paint her just as she was. She died and… Bella. If anything were to ever happen to you because I let my guard down for one second, I could never live with myself. I _love_ you. I _need_ you. Please don't ask me to hurt you. Please don't ask me to kill you."

And as much as she wanted to argue, as much as she wanted to break his self-imposed curse… she loved him too much to deny him anything.

When they reached her house, she was not ready to say goodbye. It had been a few days since they had been together last, and she craved his gentle fingers following the dip of her spine.

"Will you come up?" she asked.

"For a bit," he said after a moment. "I don't want Charlie to see my car in the morning." He squeezed her hand. "Go on up. I'll meet you there soon."

Bella brushed her teeth, washed her face and changed in the small bathroom across from her room. When she entered, Edward was sitting on her bed. She always had to take that in slowly, someone so… masculine, sitting among her girly things. Her room was bathed in purple and foam green, and she had plenty of stuffed animals left over from childhood. But he never seemed to mind.

He looked up when she walked forward. "Hi," he said, giving her a devastating smile.

She shuffled over to him and he pulled her into his arms. They fell into each other, her nose pressed against his neck as he cradled her small body against his large frame. She wrapped his soft t-shirt into her fingers and clenched, desperate to always feel this way.

"You don't need to be painted to be a work of art," he whispered into her hair later, after they were both naked and sweaty and sated with lips and fingers.

He knew she was still sore, and he was so achingly gentle with his sweet mouth that tears leaked out of her eyes as she came. Everything felt so fragile, and she longed for the time Esme told her of – the time where one was comfortable in love, where the trivial stupid things didn't even matter. She felt like the whole thing was built on a web, shining thin strands that tied her up as bait, just waiting for the pain to strike.

"Cheesy, Edward," she told him, running her nose across his collarbone.

She felt his laugh deep in his chest. "It's true, Bella. You've always been beautiful. I was just too stupid to see the beauty in your indignant face, daring me to see you as more than a sketched line. You scared me to death, the way your intelligence and ferocity shone out of every pore."

She smiled sleepily. "You know when I truly started to forgive you for being so awful?"

"When?" he asked, tracing her shiny curls against her arms.

"When you smiled at me in Port Angeles, after saving me from that awful man. You smiled, and I noticed your chipped tooth. You were so perfect from far away, unattainable. But as I got closer, I noticed the cracks in your exterior. The cracks where the light shines out."

He kissed her, and the world made sense for another day.


	19. The Swan's Song

Holidays give me more time to write. You'll be thankful for that - I mean, what? I'm thankful for every single one of you who reviews, PMs, favorites, recommends, etc. Thanks to my beautiful betas, completing triangle of perfection - **doitforyou **and **prettypisces. **We did our cute 'i'm thankful for...' over twitter last night (do you follow me? I'm **pinkeveningsky**) but I'm still saying it now. 14319. I love you to pieces, pretty girls.

**Disclaimer:** You know it's not mine. I know it's not mine. Let's not lie to each other.

* * *

**The Swan's Song**

The summer slowly began to fade into quicker twilights. The air grew cooler, and the denim cut-offs Bella had been accustomed to wearing were thrown back in to her chest of drawers with a sigh.

The Cullen family saw off Rosalie and Emmett with tears and laughter in early September, days before Bella, Alice and Edward were due back to school.

Emmett had grabbed her up in a giant, sweeping hug that left her breathless with melancholy. He kissed her forehead and said, "Catherine Parr is the _shit,_ little one." Then he moved on to a sobbing Esme.

Rosalie put her hand against Bella's cheek. It was warm and soft, and Bella closed her eyes and let a tear fall down. "Don't cry, sweet," Rosalie whispered. "It's only the beginning, after all." Rosalie wasn't the hugging type; despite her gentleness, she was still wrapped up in an untouchable bubble. So Bella settled for a nod.

Edward hugged her tightly to his chest as they watched the car drive off into the fading sun. She buried her face against his familiar heartbeat, letting that anchor keep her grounded.

"Jasper's next," she whispered into his warm skin, even more fearful of the young General losing his beauty in the whirlwind of city life.

"Yes," said Edward quietly. She wondered how he felt; he had relied on his siblings for emotional support since he was ten, and suddenly they were gone, off creating their own lives. "A season for goodbyes, it would seem."

Bella wished she had taken those words to heart.

XxXxX

"Bella!"

She turned in the middle of the crowded hallway, still trying to get her locker to open. She was up on her toes, rolling the lock between her fingers, but she could barely see the numbers. When she saw who called her, she smiled. A very tan Mike Newton was strolling towards her.

"Hi," she said as he got up to her.

"How was your summer?" he asked, watching her struggle with the lock. "Here, let me try that." He grabbed the piece of paper with her combo and twirled.

"Thanks," she breathed. "And it was… it was great, truly."

"Good," he smiled. "Glad to hear it. It's a shame you decided not to work at Newton's. We had a busy summer – you would've banked in commission. We've got a couple spots open, if you find yourself without a job. College kids that were home from the summer dropped their two weeks and left."

There was no way she would leave Esme's Interiors to work in a camping store, but the sentiment was sweet. "Thanks for the offer," Bella said. "Hey! You did it."

Mike had the locker open in a flash. "Magic fingers, Bella." He wiggled them at her, and she was sexually educated enough now to understand his double entendre. She was about to scowl when someone did it for her.

"Don't," said a red voice behind her, contained possession and rage, "speak to her like that."

"Sorry," said Mike at once. "Wasn't thinking. Flirting is second nature, you know."

Edward ignored him. "Did you get your locker open?"

"Mike did," Bella said, a bit annoyed at Edward's butting in. She could tell someone off herself. Plus, Mike was totally harmless. He had never been anything but sweet to her. "He swooped in and saved me."

Edward's jaw visibly ticked with that one. "Oh?"

"Um…" hedged Mike. "I was just going to see what your schedule was, Bella. But I guess I'll just see you at lunch and hope for the best. Cullen," he said shortly, acknowledging Edward, and then he walked off, calling out a greeting to Tyler Crowley.

She rounded on Edward. "I love you. What more do you want from me?"

Her blunt question cut straight to the marrow. "I – nothing – "

"I'll not have you acting like a Neanderthal around me. Possessiveness _isn't_ attractive. There's a reason women fought for their equality." She put her Chemistry book in her locker and slammed it hard, the reverberation accenting her point nicely. "I'm perfectly good at telling someone off when they're making me uncomfortable or just plain pissing me off."

"That much is evident," Edward said quietly. "Bella, stop. I'm sorry."

She sighed heavily. "I still want to be mad at you."

He shrugged. "That's your prerogative. But can I at least hold your hand as we walk to class?"

"PDA is frowned upon." He looked so crestfallen, she gave up. "If you get me detention on the first day, I'll murder you, Cullen."

He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, something that did not go unnoticed by several freshmen walking by. They sighed because Edward was gorgeous, and Edward was taken. He was _hers_ – that stopped her train of thought. Then she laughed at the hypocrisy.

"What?" he asked, sharing her smile.

"Nothing. Just thinking… maybe there _is _something vital about possessiveness."

Bella eased into her senior year with Edward in two classes and Mike in none. She enjoyed being back in school; the nerdy side of her legitimately loved learning. Of course, having a very beautiful, very smitten boyfriend writing her sweet notes and drawing her pensive expression during Desdemona's demise helped exponentially.

The time for Jasper's departure rolled around that weekend, and they decided to have a joint party – for his going away and Bella's eighteenth birthday. She was less than excited about it. She was afraid the whole night would be tinged in muted grey.

She sat on Edward's bed a few hours before the party was due to begin, reading over her lit homework. Her stomach was tied up in little anxious knots. Alice and Jasper were… doing whatever they needed to do, and Edward was out with Esme buying decorations. When they got together – the artist and the interior designer – they were a force of a nature.

She was nudged much later, and only when she awoke did she realize she had been asleep. Edward was hovering over her on all fours, smiling down at her sleepy face. "Is Othello boring you, Bella?"

"Doomed love," she yawned, snuggling into Edward's arm. "It's all very boring, isn't it?"

"Yes," he laughed. "Unless you're a part of it, I'd imagine." He nudged her with the arm she was lying on. "Wake up, sweetheart."

"No," she groaned. "Lay down with me."

"If I stay on this bed, it won't be for sleeping."

She cracked an eye open and peered up at him. They had explored their physical intimacy pretty thoroughly. She was just now really enjoying herself during sex, but had yet to come from an interaction. She couldn't concentrate on release with all the different sensations happening, or something. She had also been put on birth control, and it made her sexual mood fluctuate. Sometimes she wasn't at all interested; sometimes she was ravenous for his body.

She had seen him playful and intense. But she had never heard him so blatantly proposition her.

"Don't we have a party to get to?" she asked, smoothing her palms down his forearms.

"Yes," he answered, but had her anyway.

They were late to the party - her own party! – and her classmates were all very amused when she came out of the house with rosy cheeks and a freshly pressed blouse. Edward followed seconds later, jovially accepting the catcalls with a smile and a wave of his hand. She enjoyed seeing him so carefree in their love, so accepting of teasing in lieu of what they had found in each other.

After a big vat of spaghetti and meatballs, cake was served. Edward held Bella's hand the whole time they ate, enjoying her being the center of attention. She sat close to Jasper, already missing the sweet amber-haired soldier that fought on her side from day one.

Jasper eventually got up to play an impromptu game of football with some of their classmates, and Bella watched them with a smile.

"Why don't you play?" Bella asked, nodding towards the sweaty boys.

Edward shrugged. "I'm enjoying you much more than their homoerotic display of masculinity. Besides, I'm hoping to steal you away. Your present is still to be discovered."

She laughed loudly at that. His humor was so surprising – it was usually delivered with a banal voice or nonchalant shrug. "Well," she said, standing up. "I told you not to get me anything. So, to further emasculate you and just all around make you sorry, I'm going to do what you can't."

He raised an elegant eyebrow, a silent question.

"I'm going to play _football." _ Then she turned on her heel and ran into the group.

Jasper laughed when he saw her. Mike tossed her the ball playfully, and she caught it against her chest. She could hear Edward's chuckle behind her as Jasper darted after her playfully. He was slowing down to a stop when his foot caught a pothole, and he fell forward onto her.

The fall to the earth wasn't bad. It was the sickening crunch of Bella's ankle against the earth that was bad. She screamed and clutched at the bone that stung like knife holes.

Edward was by her side in an instant. "Bella, Bella? Are you okay?" The rest of the boys gathered around her, especially an apologetic Jasper who looked deeply upset to have caused her pain.

"It's okay," she said through gritted teeth. She watched Carlisle run up to her with Mike trailing behind.

"Bella? Mike says you might have broken your ankle. Let me see, sweetheart."

Three hours, a cast and two crutches later, Bella was back in Edward's room as he paced the floor in worried circles over and over.

"You're going to wear a hole in the carpet," she snapped. He had been a mess all night, alternating between blinding rage at Jasper and deep apologies for Bella. His hair stuck on end so vividly, it was like he placed a wet finger in an electrical socket.

He looked up at her, propped back in his bed with her foot elevated on a pillow. His eyes raked over her slowly, the green of grass after a storm. Then he stalked to his closet and wrenched out a square package wrapped beautifully.

"Here," he said in a dead voice, shoving it towards her. "Happy birthday."

She took it carefully, feeling like she was unwrapping something beautiful to find a poisonous snake underneath. She knew what it was before the paper came off; she felt the way the back indented onto the pliable material.

It was a canvas. A canvas with a painting on it.

He had painted a giant flower, blooming with life and vibrancy. On one of the petals, her profile was clearly defined. He had painted her in some form. He… he had given in. He had put her image on a canvas.

She looked up and smiled. "It's beautiful."

He was not smiling. He glanced down at her cast, and then looked away. "Just finished it last night."

His mood was so odd. She looked back down at the painting, amazed at the way he incorporated the flow of her hair into the wrinkles of the petals. He was so incredibly talented. He had painted her. He had painted her. He… had painted her.

And she had gotten hurt.

"No," she breathed, a sharp gust of ice.

"And so it continues," he said bitterly.

"You can't honestly think that!" She wished she could stand and go to him, to shake him out of his fit. "It was a stupid accident, Edward! It was nothing!"

He whirled on her. "Nothing compared to what could have happened! Yes, an accident! Just like me knocking over a candle into oil paints. Just like Tanya being in the car with someone drunk. Just like Jasper knocking into you! Right after I paint all of you!"

"I didn't die!" she hissed.

"And I didn't paint you in full detail, did I?" He laughed. "Just a little experiment. Congratulations, Bella. You failed. Are you happy now?"

"They are all coincidences, you idiot!" she shrieked. She was so _frustrated_ – she had never called him a name like that. "I can't take this, Edward! This ridiculous notion that you're going to kill me, steal my soul – whatever – just by putting my image on a canvas."

"It's not ridiculous when it's been proven time and again. I'm never going to paint you. You are too precious to me. I can't live without you." He crawled to her on the bed, begging her to understand.

"No," she said clearly. "You can't live with me either, then."

His eyebrows bunched together. "What are you saying?"

"I understand that you're scared. But if this," she gestured between them, "is supposed to last forever… how can it, with us walking on eggshells like this? You're an artist, Edward. You have a gift for capturing people. I _love_ you. You're going to want to paint me in your life, I know it."

"That doesn't mean – "

"Okay, scratch that. It's not the fact you won't paint me. It's the notion behind it. You can't trust yourself to do the most natural thing in the world to you: paint. If you… if you paint me, I'll stay alive. I'll stay by your side forever to prove it. I swear to you, Edward. We just need this… _I_ need this. Please." She took his clammy hand and pressed it to her face.

"Bella, I…"

"Edward. The world is full of mishaps, okay? And I'm not exactly the world's most coordinated girl. I'm going to get hurt through no fault of your own. You're going to paint because it is _who you are._ The two can live together in harmony without having anything to do with each other. Please. I'm begging you to trust me. To trust yourself."

He stared at her for so long she thought he was going to say yes.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I can't. I can't be that reckless with your life."

"But you can deny the part of your life that makes you who you are. You say that when you paint, you steal people's souls. But when you don't paint, you rob yourself of your own." She struggled to stand.

"Bella, please…"

She grabbed at her crutches. "I can't. Edward… I love you. But I have to love myself, too. I can't be in a relationship that is fragile as glass, waiting to snap if I happen to break a nail the same day my boyfriend doodles my name in class."

He winced at the harsh analogy. "I'm begging you to stay."

"Paint me." She gave him one more chance.

He stared at her blankly, and then turned away.

"Will I see you, Bella?" His voice stopped her awkward shuffle to the door.

She swallowed the tears. "If you change your mind. Otherwise… it's not fair to both of us for me to linger. I'll try to make it easier for you, to make it feel as if I never existed."

She tried to ignore the gasping sob that left his mouth.

When Bella curled up in bed later that night, she finally got her answer about true love. She recalled Edward earlier that day, both hard and tender as he panted above her, the motion of his hips beating against hers like a metronome. She wiped the moisture away from her eyes, not ready to accept all the implications of it being over.

But she knew one thing for certain. True love did last forever, even if the relationship did not.

* * *

The phrase "**swan song**" is a reference to an ancient belief that the mute swan (_Cygnus olor_) is completely mute during its lifetime until the moment just before it dies, when it sings one beautiful song. - from Wikipedia.

Hi. Let's hold hands and take deep breaths.


	20. The Scarlet In Your Day

First off - WOW. I am so blessed. Like, really. I have the most passionate, lyrical reviewers out there in ficdom. To really grasp that you all have come to love these characters like I do by seeing everyone's adverse or 'right on, Bella!' reaction... it was overwhelming. I freaked out to my betas last night. Guys, you all are truly something. For every person who reviewed (even if it was telling me Bella should die), favorited, rec'd, or just read from afar... thank you. From the bottom of my scarlet heart. This next day update is for you.

Thanks ALWAYS to **prettypisces** and **doitforyou** who let me freak out hard core, and let me bounce ideas off them before kicking my ass and telling me to do it the way I planned all along. Thanks to **laurenzee** and everyone on twitter (**pinkeveningsky**) who let me email them part of this chapter when my betas were off having lives. Thanks to **the_gazebo** for always being honest and supporting me from the beginning.

I don't have the exact amount outlined, but Bare will be coming to a close around chapter 25.

Let's hold hands and believe Billy Joel when he said everything's gonna be all right.

**Disclaimer:** You're not still reading this. It's not mine. It's yours.

* * *

**The Scarlet In Your Day**

Bella did not go to school the next day. It was a Monday, and Mondays were already difficult enough without having to face them… alone. She convinced Charlie she was sick, and it was easy enough – her eyes were nearly swollen shut, her voice was raspy and worn and her cheeks were flushed with what could have been a fever.

She stayed in bed that day, watching the clouds shift across the sky. They opened every once in a while and blinded Bella with the promise of light behind the grey. But she couldn't believe it, so she shut her eyes against it and willed the storm in her body to stop raging.

There was a knock on the door around two-thirty. Dazed and confused from the half-coma she had been in all day, she rose slowly, black and star-bright fuzzies taking over her vision momentarily. Then she walked down the stairs slowly.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Alice demanded as soon as Bella opened the door.

Bella squinted against the brightness of the light and bitterness of Alice's tone. "What do you mean?"

"You know _exactly_ what I mean. Edward took off last night after destroying nearly every possession he owns, and he's only just called us to let us know he's fine. What the hell is _wrong_ with you?" She had never seen Alice so aggravated.

"Wait a second," Bella said, opening the door wider so Alice could come in. "Why do you just automatically assume it's _me_?"

Alice came in, shedding her coat and shoes. "Because _he_ would never leave _you."_

Bella shook her head. "It's just something I had to do, Alice. I didn't know I'd have to answer to the Spanish Inquisition for a decision I made."

Alice put her hands over her face. "Can we sit? Maybe then I can calm down enough to stop yelling at you. I know you have a side to this story, too. It's just – he's my brother – and Jasper is gone, and I'm - "

"Come on," Bella said, dragging Alice to the dining room table. Then she took a deep breath, steadying herself beyond the tears she had been having trouble keeping at bay for the past eighteen hours.

"I'm almost certain he's told you about his… predicament with painting," Alice started, running her hands through her cropped hair. It wasn't styled in any way; it just drooped around her tired face – a real testament to her troubles.

"Yeah," Bella breathed, clutching her stomach. "He did. It's just so completely irrational…"

"Is it, though?"

Bella looked up, surprised. "I think so. I think it is. Painting someone… you can't kill someone. There's no… he's not _cursed_. He's had a very tragic life. But…"

"Edward told me that you're scared of lightning bugs."

Bella stared at her friend in shock. "Yeah, I am. I hate them. They fly at you with that little light bulb up their ass, and you don't even see them coming until they're right up your – "

"He told me about that time you two were in that meadow he found, and the lightning bugs came out, and you two had to leave, right then. Isn't that a bit irrational, Bella?"

"I can't _help_ it, Alice. They're terrifying – it's not like I want to be… oh, okay. Okay. I see you what did there…"

Alice smiled a little and continued. "Now think about that on a grander scale. There was probably something weird that happened to you as a child to make you afraid of them. Now, when you're an adult, and you rationally know that lightning bugs can't hurt you…"

Bella sighed. "I get what you're saying. But lightning bugs don't cause Edward and I to constantly walk on eggshells around each other."

Alice nodded. "I understand, Bella. But I'm furious at you for what you did."

Bella automatically got her back up. "It was _my_ decision – "

"And a stupid one. Look, it's none of my business if you and Edward don't work out, okay? I'd love nothing more than the two of you to grow old and make beautiful, frustrating poets and painters – "

"Alice – "

"But what you did was so _selfish_, Bella. Selfishness I never thought possible from that heart of yours. He needs to paint people. He needs to get over this very irrational, yet justified fear. But to do it the way you did… with an ultimatum like that? After he had just learned to trust someone so vulnerably?"

Bella was silent save for her ragged breathing. Last night she had lain in pain over the loss of something she felt was so integral, something that was necessary. But as Alice laid that in front of her, the heart of the matter she hadn't even thought of… it occurred to her.

She… was she _wrong _to have done that?

"Oh _God,"_ she whispered, clutching her fingers in her hair.

"We were hoping," Alice began in a more gentle voice, "that once you saw his… problem… you would do something like – I don't know. Lead him to something, like therapy? Bella, we all know it's a problem. We've been dealing with it the best we've been able to – especially Dad, Emmett and myself… we've been around it for almost ten years. And then it happened again with Tanya… that's why we moved down here, from Alaska. He had to get away. And… Bella… I don't know – " Alice started crying, and she had never seen the beautiful little raven break down, begging for things to happen never more, never more.

"I'm sorry," Bella rasped, clutching at Alice's hands. She was sorry for Alice's pain, for Edward's pain, and for her own. She was sorry she hadn't decided whether she was wrong or right, or whether she would ever have the chance to find out.

"It's just," Alice said after a moment, wiping at her eyes, "you were the only one he ever listened to. When you told him to sit, he sat. He gave you… so much. And we thought you'd be the one to lead him towards the right path. You can't save him, Bella. Not with your words or ultimatums. But you can make him want to save himself."

XxXxX

_Am I really that arrogant?_

That was all Bella had managed to write. She had stared at her notebook for over two hours, ready to pour herself out onto it like ink leaking from its pen. But she had been unable to say anything to herself to justify her decision. She hadn't even… she hadn't even…

_I hadn't even considered what Alice told me. It's so easy to forget Edward's fragility when we are together. When… we _were_ together. Were. Were. Past tense… _

_I… I want… oh God, I miss him._

_What have I done?_

_No. No. I know I wasn't completely wrong. The way he… I couldn't keep on like that, we couldn't keep on like that. Therapy, psychologists, psychiatrists, counseling… these are things I haven't even thought about, with him. I just… I am in way over my head. _

_He truly has problems. And I was stupid enough to think I could fix them with a firm hand. I… I don't deserve him. I have been awful to him. Sarcastic and short-tempered, and he loved me anyway. _

_I deserve this. But Edward doesn't. But how do I fix it… can I even fix it?_

_I don't think I can fix it._

_I've been nothing but plain my entire life, plain and shy. A boy took me out of that shell and showed me myself in the way his exceptional eye for beauty saw me. He gave me confidence to speak my mind. He gave me confidence in every aspect._

_I am not beautiful. Not anymore._

_XxXxX  
_

At school the next day, Bella saw Alice walking towards her. She offered Alice a small smile, which Alice responded to with a shake of the head and an aversion of the eyes.

Bella's heart sunk like a stone in the sea. She understood. She understood that she had to pick blood over water. But that didn't stop it from ripping her apart from the cells of her muscles to the cover of her shell. She sidestepped into the bathroom and clenched her hands against the sink, fighting for even breath.

She splashed water on her face and looked at her reflection. She was not the girl she had seen in the reflection over the summer. She was that scared girl before Edward, all dark browns and ivories, insecurities and shaking fingers.

She moved to the door but stopped as she heard the voice that made her want to drop to her knees in supplication.

"Don't do that, Alice."

"What she did was inexcusable. Don't tell me you've forgiven her – "

"There's nothing about this situation I can forgive. She hasn't asked for forgiveness. She did what she had to do."

"You _don't_ mean that; I know it's killing you!" Alice hissed.

Bella stepped out of the bathroom, unable to listen to him stick up for her any longer. She didn't deserve that.

"It's okay, Edward," Bella said. He jumped and so did Alice, who had the decency to look embarrassed. "I deserve it."

"Just because you don't love me anymore doesn't mean my family has to ostracize you. You and Alice were friends before I came along and ruined your life," he said neutrally.

She looked up at him, her mouth agape. His hair was matted down and darker than usual from oils. His skin was unshaven and his mouth was turned down in a frown. "I don't… I don't love you anymore?"

He closed his eyes. "I'm… I have to go to class." He walked off quickly, like his urgency was guiding him by the nose.

"I thought we were friends," Bella whispered at Alice.

"We are," said Alice. "But he's my brother. I loved him first. A friend should be able to look at your situation and side with you, or at least be unbiased. But I can't do that, Bella. I look at him and see how he's shut off. How he's taken the blame for what you did… and I can't deal with that."

"So our relationship is mutually exclusive."

"The day you started loving someone I love… yes." Alice was crying. "I'm sorry, Bella. I love you, too. But my _brother…_"

Bella dropped her backpack and hugged the small girl. Right in the middle of their high school hallway, the land of backstabbing friendships and false love, she never respected someone more than the girl who walked away due to the truth of love and sacrifices.

Work the next day was painfully awkward. Esme was still sweet to her, but distant. They had grown close over the summer, less like a mother and a daughter and more like two giggling sisters. But as she walked in to relieve the girl whose shift ended at three, like she did every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Esme immediately stopped laughing and looked at Bella with clear pain in her clear hazel eyes.

"Hello," Bella had said, dropping her purse on the desk.

"Hi, sweet," Esme said softly, and a little coolly. "I've got a conference call in a few minutes, but maybe after that… we can talk?"

"Of course," Bella said, her heart ramming into her throat, pulsing frightened scarlet blood all the way down to her toes.

When Esme returned, it was with bottled water for Bella and a small smile. She sat across from Bella, as she had done so many times, spilling her secrets about true love lost and gained and laughing about the crazy antics of the family that saved her.

"I don't really know how to say this," said Esme with an awkward laugh.

"Please," begged Bella. "We've always been candid before. This… this… please tell me this won't change anything."

Esme looked surprised. "Oh, no, Bella. I wouldn't presume to lecture you about your choices. I'm very sad for the both of you. This isn't… I'm sure it's strange for you, but this isn't actually about Edward."

"Oh." Bella rolled her shoulders back, uncapped the water and sipped. "I'm sorry. I've had a very… well. Different week…"

Esme patted Bella's hand. "This is about your job, Bella."

Bella choked on her water. "My job?"

Esme sighed. "The girl whose job you took over is ready to come back to work. She left on maternity leave, remember? I promised her she would have a job if she wanted to come back. I never dreamed she would continue to want to work as a secretary, but with the economy like it is…"

Bella could feel her own eyes shut off. She was tired of crying. Tired of wearing her heart on her sleeve. So she sewed it back up, wrung out the dripping blood and closed herself off to the family who turned their backs on her, one by one.

"Of course," Bella said. "I understand."

Esme noticed her change in demeanor instantly. "I'm sorry, sweet… I could try to work out some sort of schedule, but you would be getting less hours…"

"No," said Bella. "It's fine. She should have her job back. You promised. I was only… I was only temporary."

"Bella, sweet girl…"

"Thank you for the opportunity, Esme. To be your friend, and to be able to work here. It's given me invaluable life experience."

Esme closed her mouth in a sad line. "You're welcome. You'll call me if you ever need anything, won't you? I'm always open for you. You're a bright, beautiful – "

Bella blanched at that word.

" – young woman. I wish you the best in everything. Are you sure you don't want me to work something out – "

"No," Bella said. "I have a job waiting for me at Newton's."

Esme squeezed her hand before retreating back to her office. Bella looked down at the rich wood of her desk, knowing this would be the last time she'd ever see it. She ran her hands along it, thinking of playing tic-tac-toe with Edward across this surface in their red notebook that had been abandoned long ago.

She thought of him painting the ornate flowers in the corners of the wall during Esme's remodel, completely covered in the paint she had smeared all over him.

She shook her head. There were too many memories here, anyway. This was best. A clean break. To be as if she never existed.

She took out her cell phone and texted Mike Newton.

_Is that job still open?_

It took him no time at all to respond.

_Is this Bella Swan, texting my phone? Yes, you. The job is open. It will be nice to see you without people breathing down my neck._

Bella swallowed.

_When can I start?_

_XxXxX  
_

_The clock moves relentlessly, each tick reminding me how much longer it's been since I've been with Edward. Since I've heard his laugh, bright yellow-green leaves growing out of the barren branches. Since I've felt his oil-roughened fingertips grazing the soft skin of my belly, painting his warmth against me. Each time the clock clacks another second, it's like the blood pounding against an old wound – raw, just under the surface, with only a layer of new pink skin covering it. _

_I see him in class and observe him through eyes that have taken advantage of him. The way the veins in his hand pop out whenever he writes. The way he takes his tongue between his teeth when he erases. The strong line of his back, and the sharp v that was starting to form that makes an appearance when he stretches. The intelligence in his eyes whenever he knows the answer to a question. And the way his eyes never pass over to me with longing, with anything. _

_I was the one who promised it would be as if I never existed. He is the one making sure that promise is fulfilled._

_XxXxX  
_

It was three weeks and five days after Bella and Edward split when she finally kicked herself into repair mode. Edward obviously wasn't going to relent, and that was just… she didn't care anymore. He could never pick up a brush again and she wouldn't care, she just needed him and loved him and ached bruise blue all over.

But the question was how. She tore her room apart for any memento, any trinket, anything that would share her feelings towards him that he would respond to.

She was about to scream and give up when, under the pile of homework on her desk, she saw a red spiral notebook peeking out.

She spent the next two hours and three yellow magic markers to make sure every single remaining page in that notebook was full of the color that could convey the strongest emotion she felt.

_Yellow is sorry._

She walked up to him the next day at school, and he was so startled by her confident approach that he dropped his pen.

"Here," she said, thrusting the notebook at him.

He looked up at her, and their eyes met for the first time in weeks – green leaves and the brown oak that steadied it – and she was so in love it literally made her breath hitch.

"Thank you," he said quietly, taking their book in his hands delicately, like it was priceless and perfect. If he smelled the lemon scent of the marker, he didn't comment.

"Edward, I…" She bit her lip and went to say something profound… maybe… probably not, but the bell rang so she didn't have the chance. "Just… open it. When you… when you can."

"Okay," he told her, and she went to sit down.

Later that night, she sat at her desk, pouring over A Separate Peace and trying to get lost in the tragedy of their lives instead of her own. She was shocked that her phone buzzed; it was nearly ten.

She glanced over at it and she had to pick her heart back up off the floor before she could open it. With trembling hands she pressed a button to receive Edward's text.

_What's another name for a purple-grey?_

It took her a minute. It took her several minutes. She put the phone down, walked around her room, gave herself a pep talk, brushed her teeth and hair, and then sat down on her bed to answer.

_Ash?_

Two minutes passed. Three. Ten. She was almost asleep when her phone went off again.

_I was going to say every second I have to spend without you. Goodnight._


	21. An Angel Opens Her Eyes

I hope this finds you all well. Thank you so much to all the new people who have found this story and decided to review each chapter, or even one - you are beautiful. Thanks to all who disagree with my choices and continue to read, and thanks to all who agree with my choices and continue to have faith. It's impossible to please everyone, though I do try so hard. Thanks to every eye that comes across this page, whether you review or favorite or recommend or just quietly stand by. You are cherished.

Thanks to my betas - XIX. 143.

See you at the bottom of newsy stuff.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **The acoustic of 'edge of desire' by john mayer owns my soul at the moment. I, however, never own anything recognizable in this story.

* * *

**An Angel Opens Her Eyes**

"Can you bring those maps over here? Mom wants to change the fixtures and make a more holiday-like display. Halloween is only a month or so away, can you believe it?"

Bella nodded along to Mike's words, grabbing the box of Pacific Northwest maps and moving it over towards the back of the store. She wiped her hand against her forehead. She regularly broke out into a sweat at Newton's Outfitters. She was not only a cashier, but a stock person and logistics and advertising and merchandising and oh, she missed the comfy swivel chair and the cool bottles of water at her disposal at Esme's…

She thumped along aimlessly, her heavy boot hitting the floor with a dull thud every time she stepped. She stacked the maps in small piles, and then moved back to the front of of the store slowly to help Mike arrange a hay and pumpkin display by the door.

"So, what's wrong, Bella?" Mike said after a few minutes of silent work.

Bella tugged at the itchy collar of her work uniform polo. "What do you mean?" She set the scarecrow against a smiling jack-o-lantern and surveyed her work. "You don't like it?"

Mike laughed. "I meant with you, beautiful swan. You've been down for these past few weeks. I know this is hard work compared to Esme's, but we've tried to…"

Bella held up her hand, wincing internally that her melancholy was being interpreted as snobbery. "No, Mike. Your parents have been great, offering me a job like this. I can't ever tell you how much I appreciate it."

Mike waved a magnanimous hand. "I told you, Bella. It was nothing. I'm just sorry you seem so bummed about life."

Bella tucked her hair behind her ears and looked up from her autumn display. "Edward and I broke up."

Mike nodded slowly. "Yeah, I know. Why?"

Bella shrugged, knowing she couldn't divulge the heart of the matter. "Edward and I don't see eye to eye on something, and I gave him an ultimatum that he refused to meet. I… well, I left. Stupidly. It's like, I know I was partly right on the subject but I'd rather have a freaked out Edward than no Edward at all."

Mike scratched his head, watching a couple customers mill around. "So… what's the problem?"

Bella stared at him, her hand falling idle in the small stack of hay. "What do you mean?"

"Well…" Mike looked embarrassed to be put on the spot. "Like, it's not a secret, Bella. How he feels. How you feel. Everyone disagrees, you know? Every couple has that stupid 'I hate you' 'no I hate you more' break up, where they're actually miserable and waiting for the other to relent. Like, I don't know. Jessica and I did that. We do that all the time."

"I don't think it's that simple."

Mike looked at her. "Okay. Why not?"

Bella didn't know what to say. He's delicate! I'm complicated! We're in love! I pushed him away! All things that could apply to any relationship, she gathered. She didn't know what made it more difficult.

Mike sensed her discomfort and patted her on the shoulder. "Listen, Bella. Okay, I'm not the smartest person. But I also know that everyone is born with that instinct that like… okay, when your mom tells you something, like oh honey it'll be okay, I know what you're going through… and every part of you screams like, you have no idea, when in reality she totally does. Well this is one of those things. Your relationship with Edward is special and complex because it's your relationship. And like… I know Cullen has problems. But I also know that you're the girl that made those problems seem secondary. And like… I don't know a whole lot. But that seems pretty important."

Bella had no idea what to say after that speech. It was so simple and poignant she felt like a camera should be rolling in the backdrop, with a director ready to call 'cut!' "I just… I miss him."

"So call him."

"He and I texted briefly like a week ago, after I apologized. But nothing since then."

"Bella," Mike grinned, "you broke up with him, and you're expecting him to make the grand gesture? Wake up."

Bella nodded, feeling like she had been thrown into a bucket of ice water. "Yeah… I – yeah. I guess… I'm just… I have a lot to learn. I thought I was so smart, but really I'm just… I'm terrified. I'm terrified that I've lost him. I keep waiting for him to tell me I haven't. But I guess… I guess I haven't even asked."

Mike nodded. "So ask. Tell him you miss him. Bella, I know we tried things… that you didn't really feel anything, but listen. If you broke my heart, I'd still miss you. You're just, you're like… you're special. And – "

"Bella? Mike? You have a customer." Mrs. Newton peeked her head out of the manager's office, nodding at the old man holding a box of tackle.

"I've got it," Mike said, and walked off to help.

"Yeah," Bella whispered. "Maybe you do."

Bella waited until the end of lit the next day to approach Edward. He was gathering up his books when she swallowed the nerves lumped in her throat and stood next to him.

"Wasn't that ridiculous?" Bella asked as he turned around.

He started, not expecting her there. "What?"

"The pop quiz. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I'll just… yeah." She moved to go, and he didn't stop her. Then she heard Mike's voice in her mind – _you expect him to make the grand gestures?_ – so she turned back around. "Edward?"

Edward threw his bag over his shoulder. "Yes, Bella?"

"Can we… can we talk?"

Edward pressed his mouth into a tight line. She watched his lips, desperate and missing them and the way they coaxed sweet lavendar out of her. "I don't… I don't have much to say to you, Bella."

The breath left her in a woosh she knew he heard. "No?"

"Not… not really." He scratched his head. "I have to get to my next class. So…"

Bella moved to the side and let him pass. He always smelled strongly of weed these days, weed and musty sheets and clothes that were crumpled on a turpentine-soaked floor.

He was almost out the door when Bella broke.

"_Edward,"_ she wailed, knowing she sounded pitiful. Thank God the teacher had stepped out for a bathroom break.

He stopped in his tracks, the blue sound of her pain catching him in a web.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I made the biggest mistake of my life. I miss you."

He put a palm against the doorframe, and then turned around. His ancient forest eyes were tired and searched for their root. "Would you… come over today, after school?"

"Yes," she gasped. "When?"

"Just – whenever you get out. Okay? That's all – that's all I can…"

"Of course, yes, Edward – thank you – "

He turned and was gone before she stopped speaking.

Esme and Carlisle were at work and Alice was on her way to Seattle, so the house was empty save for Edward and his familiar silver Volvo. She parked behind it, her heart thudding so painfully it was like her ribs were a batting cage.

Edward didn't greet her at the door, so she walked in, taking in the familiar house with a sort of hopeless longing. She hadn't been there in about a month, and the last time she had been crying and wobbling down the stairs on crutches, trying not to tip over the railing as she listened to the sounds of destruction coming from Edward's bedroom.

She thumped up the stairs, her heavy boot announcing her presence. Edward opened the door to his studio and smiled at her, and it was so reminiscent of the past, it stopped her breath.

"Hi," she said, unsure.

"Hi, Bella," he whispered. "Come in."

He had a joint tipped into the ashtray that was still smoking, and his hair was stuffed into a fuzzy black beanie he tended to wear while painting. Sure enough, his paints were out and strewn all over the floor, and a blank canvas sat on his easel, waiting for the genius.

"It smells just like I remember," she said quietly.

He smiled at her as he took a pull off of his joint. "Awful?"

Bella shook her head, sitting down. "Like you. I missed it."

He didn't comment. Instead, he sat on the stool in front of his easel and turned to her. "Do you mind… can you just sit there while I paint?"

If he had asked her to turn cartwheels while he videotaped, she would have. "Of course," she said, settling down. "I missed just being…"

He looked over at her. "What, Bella?" he said softly, mixing colors against the ratty jeans he was wearing.

"I missed just being around you," she whispered.

He swallowed. "I missed it, too."

It felt like a small victory, if anything. The fact he missed her was small potatoes when it came to the grand scheme of things. Recovering alcoholics missed the tang of fine wine on their tongues.

He was painting a small flower that rested against his windowsill. She watched his long, elegant fingers clutch the delicate brush and bring it over the canvas, leaving trails of color and light and life in its wake. She had never just actually sat and watched him at work, always too preoccupied with getting his lips against hers. But now that she had nothing but time to watch, watch she did, and she was amazed by him all over again.

He turned and caught her stare, and he smiled softly at her. "What?"

"You're…" She closed her eyes. "You're so beautiful. It's like I'm seeing you all over again."

When she opened her eyes again, he was staring at her with a strange expression. Curious and wanting. "Bella…" he whispered.

She waited for him to continue, but he turned back to his canvas and continued with his painting.

She got up to go to the bathroom eventually, and stood in the mirror for a long time. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright, like just being around him brought some of the life back into her. When she walked back out to his studio, she expected to see him at his canvas.

No. He was sitting in the chair she had vacated, head in his hands. He was rocking back and forth like he was in pain.

"Edward?" she cried, moving to him. "What's wrong?" She touched his back, and it was the first time she had touched him in so long, and his skin was so warm through the cotton, and she – and he was upset, _focus Bella!_

"The windowsill," he whispered.

Confused, she looked over towards his canvas and the windowsill behind it. The flower painting was done, and it was beautiful, and the flower on the windowsill – the flower on the windowsill was…

"Dead," she whispered. "No. No. Oh my God, no…"

The flower – the flower was _dead_. Oh my_ God_, it was real, he was cursed, oh my God –

"Edward," she said, pressing her face against his back. "It's okay. It's okay. You can just paint inanimate things. We don't have to – you don't have to – don't worry, it'll be – "

He raised his face out of his hands. Bella expected there to be anguish, maybe tears – but what was this? A smile? A very, very evil –

"Gotcha," he whispered, and then laughed.

Bella was shocked, and stared at him for one, two, three seconds before –

"Bella? I'm so sorry, please don't cry… it was an awful, distasteful joke, I just wanted to see you laugh again, I'm so sorry…" He held his hands out in front of her, to where she was crying on his floor, cross-legged and defeated, like he wasn't sure what to do with a crying female.

"No," she wailed, "it was hilarious!"

"Then…"

"I'm crying because I'm so… so… sorry!" she gasped. "I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have left. Every second – I can't – I'm so…" She tried to get a hold of herself. "I can't breathe without you. Everything hurts. I don't deserve you. You loved me so selflessly once, and I can't ask for that again. But Edward, I _want _it. I want it _so bad."_

He stared at her, completely bewildered. "What do you mean? Bella, I don't…" He scratched his hair under his beanie. "I can't blame you for what you did. You shouldn't blame yourself. Don't let Alice talk you out of what you did – you did what you had to – "

"No!" Bella cried, shoving his hands away, and then grabbing them back. "No, I won't listen to this – to you blaming yourself, for everything,_ always_. The truth is I was just terrified of you resenting me. Of you painting everything in this world you wanted to but never me, never me because you were so afraid of taking my soul, and resenting me because you could never have it all, and you would just stop painting and rot away and be miserable, and oh Edward, I couldn't stand it. I thought if I said, me or the painting, it would be me…"

"I didn't choose the painting either," Edward said quietly. "I didn't choose at all."

"I know," Bella said, her sobs finally gathering into little hiccups. "I chose for us. And that was so selfish of me. And I don't deserve you and you deserve better. I just wanted so much to see you fly, that I forgot that you didn't want to fly that way… with danger."

"Bella," he gasped, and he sounded like he was in pain. "I haven't… when you say you didn't want to stifle my ability to paint, and that's why you left – well, I'm sorry but that was just so counter-productive, because I haven't been able to paint a thing since you walked out that door."

"I was just waiting," Bella whispered, "waiting for you to come to me and say, 'Bella, I need you' and I would tell you I needed you too and we could stop being – well, I could stop being so miserable without you. I see now that way of thinking is selfish and disjointed and irrational, because if you would have broken up with me all I'd be doing is staring up at the ceiling, waiting for you to realize you made a mistake, and that we – that we belong together, you and me, no matter what, because you're crazy and off-kilter and perfect and I'm insecure and selfish and absolutely completely stupidly in love with you, even if you don't love me back anymore."

Edward looked completely thrown off by the conversation they were having. "This… I never expected this to be an option for me. I thought we were over, completely."

"How could you think that?" Bella asked. "After all the times I've told you I love you and need you and just… how?"

"It never made sense," Edward said. "For you to love me. Bella, I know what I am. I know that I have problems and I know that I don't know how to fix them. And this – you getting yourself away, it was so easy for me to rationalize – not that it hurt any less, but I understood – you needed to get away from a monster like me, and if I couldn't have you then at least you would be safe. That – I mean… Bella, it's not an issue of love."

"What is it?" Bella asked, ready for him to say it was too late.

"Trust," Edward said after a moment. "I guess I really just don't believe what you're… what you're saying. It sounds absolutely perfect, and Bella, if you mean it – "

" – I do – "

"Then I would be the happiest, the luckiest… the happiest man on earth. But I just… how can I believe it?"

"I don't know," Bella whispered, "but I will do anything. Anything, Edward."

"This isn't…" He touched her face briefly, like she was a precious stone behind a glass case. "I never… I never expected this option to be open. I've worked so hard to close this up and move on. But I… to have you in my life again, Bella… that would… make me so…"

"You don't ever have to put another paintbrush near me," Bella whispered. "It's you, Edward. It's always been you. Not the brush or the canvas or the ability to make it beautiful. It's your laugh and your eyes and how violent of a storm can rage inside of you and how you can still touch me with such… gentleness, it – "

"I can't promise anything, Bella. I don't know, I don't know how to open myself up like that. I want to, God – you're so beautiful, still, the most beautiful thing on this earth, and you always will be, no matter how many times you wrench me open, but I don't, I can't – how I felt that day, watching you leave, I can't – "

"Just being your friend. Or your… I don't know. Just being around you, Edward… it's been. Today has been the best day I've had in this past month. I just want you. I'll take you anyway I can."

Edward took in a deep breath. "Will you just… can you just sit with me while I paint? I haven't painted in so long; I can't without you around. All the colors that come out in the canvas, they flow from you, Bella. I need that. I need you, in that capacity, to just sit here and center me, so I can make sense of things the only way I know how."

Bella received no promises of a relationship, or even a friendship. But she was with Edward, and when she left for the day, he gave her the flower that he had painted, the live one, that he had saved for her.

And that was enough.

* * *

Hi - me again! Good news (I think). One of the wonderful women who bought me during FGB requested Edward's POV of the break up and what he was up to during the month or so they didn't speak. Expect that up before the next chapter. It'll be in a separate upload, so make sure to author alert me so you don't miss it! I'm so nervous...


	22. A Dream That Keeps Waking Me

Hello again. Another twenty days - sigh. I'm truly sorry for not being more prolific... but I did go to Disneyworld, and I got you all something! A new chapter, see? Ooooh, shiny.

You aren't reading this. I have announcements below, so I will see you there.

XIX- thanks for betaing. 14319.

**Disclaimer: **I'm running out of clever ways to say I don't own anything.

* * *

**A Dream That Keeps Waking Me**

"The sky is never that blue."

Edward looked over at her with a small grin. "Oh, no?"

Bella was looking over the top of her novel at his painting, peering at the robin egg blue he was using for the sky he was creating.

"No," she said decidedly. "It's much more grey. Look." She pointed out the window in the direction he was painting. "It looks like it might rain. What are you doing? Are you even a real painter?" She grinned at him, letting him know she was teasing.

"No," he answered back, swirling some colors on his pallete. "I'm awful. I have no idea what I'm doing." As he spoke, he transformed the color of the sky in a few easy strokes to match the shade of the Forks' afternoon sky perfectly. "I think I'll go jump off the roof."

"I…" Bella snapped her mouth shut when she realized she was staring. "How did you do that? It was just bright blue, and now it's perfect!"

"It was a base color," Edward said patiently, scraping off an excess glob of paint with his thumbnail. "It gave me something to work off of to make the color what I needed it. And now… happy clouds." He laughed to himself.

"Happy clouds," Bella repeated.

"Yeah, you know… Bob Ross? The painter with the afro who was on PBS like, every weekday morning? He could paint a landscape in thirty minutes, and, well… he always called… you know what? Stop looking at me like that." He pointed his paintbrush accusingly at her. "It was good TV, okay?"

She was laughing so hard she had to hide her face in her book. It had been like this for a couple weeks now, she coming over and just sitting while Edward created. It reminded her of sitting in the meadow so long ago, watching him paint over the top of her book, not even bothering to read after awhile.

They had progressed into a tenuous friendship that was teasing and light, and rarely touched on heavier topics she knew would explode on them eventually. There were many times where he'd say something smart-ass and she'd reach out to smack him, only to draw her hand away, unsure.

But being with him like this was worth it. It was so good to see him smiling, laughing, teasing.

His phone buzzed then, and she looked over at it curiously. He had been getting a lot of texts lately, and he was not a big texter. She couldn't count the amount of times he had started typing a response out, only to get frustrated and call the person instead. But text he did, usually with a small smile on his face, and she couldn't help but feel a quickening in her heart, steel-grey and unsure.

They weren't together. Did he have someone else?

"Who's that?" Bella asked, nodding to his phone as his face lit up in another secret smile.

He looked up like he had been caught in headlights. "What?"

"The person texting you. You hate texting." She tried to keep the accusatory note out of her voice.

"Yeah," he said noncommittally before finishing up his text and flipping his phone shut. "Just someone I met while… well. Alice took me up to Seattle one weekend, and I met this girl."

Bella doubled over, a weird strangle sort of noise leaving her mouth. Edward looked over in alarm, and then dropped his phone when he saw her face.

"No, no, no…" he murmured, rushing over to her.

She stood up on wobbly legs, bright bursts of yellow pain flashing behind her eyelids. "I should go."

"No, Bella," he said, trying to grab for her hand.

"No, it's – I can't – " She moved away again.

"Fuck!" Edward shouted, grabbing her shoulder. "You left me once without letting me explain. Are you going to put me through this again?"

"I'm sorry," Bella gasped, trying to keep her tears at bay. "I just, I can't – what's been the point? I can't just be your friend…"

"You wouldn't just be my friend?" He looked truly angry. "You have to have me as your boyfriend, or it's nothing?"

"No!" she said, throwing up her arms. "Of course not! What have I been doing for the past few weeks? But, Edward… I can't be your friend if you're… with… someone else. I can't. I can't sit around and watch you…" The tears flew freely, cutting pink tracks across her flushing faced.

Understanding dawned across his face. "Oh, Bella – you didn't honestly think…" He drew her to him with gentle hands, and she fell against his chest, wanting to melt into his skin. "She's just a friend."

Bella nodded into his chest, barely taking in his words. She was _holding_ him, and he her, so close that she could feel his heart beating against her cheek. He smelled so wonderful, peppery weed and acidic turpentine and that gross sandpapery soap stuff he washed with to scrub paint off his body.

He backed away after a moment, and wiped her cheeks with his scratchy thumbs. "I didn't mean to make you cry," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

"I wouldn't just _leave_ you," she murmured back, and then stared at his crumpled face in horror when she realized she had done just that. "No, Edward… I meant now. I meant every second after now. I would never leave you again. I will never leave you again, until you order me away."

He smiled, but it didn't quite meet his eyes.

"You don't trust me at all, do you?" she asked, running her fingers against his cheek. He closed his eyes and nuzzled into her palm.

"I want to," he whispered, his eyes still closed.

"But you can't," she said bleakly.

He opened his eyes, and they were clearer than she had ever seen them. "You killed me," he said simply.

"Please," she begged. "Please let me in. I killed me, too."

He took in a deep breath of clear blue air, and then breathed it back out, right onto her lips. It was almost like kissing him, and she wanted to cry.

"Come here," he said after a moment, and drew her to his bed. He sat down carefully, and then gently took her in his arms and sat her down onto his lap.

He touched her all over her face, smudging every line and plane and shadow with his fingers, testing her, making sure she was real. He traced her lips and brushed her eyelashes and she was shaking so badly that when he was through, he held her so tightly her shakes made his body tremble.

He laid them down, and she slowly dropped her head into the nook between his neck and shoulder. She sighed out an unsteady breath, and let her body relax against his.

"Just give me time," he whispered after a moment, tracing a line against her bare arm.

"I'll give you anything," she answered, and placed her hand over his madly thumping heart.

They weren't demonstrative at school, where anyone could see and start asking questions. Bella wasn't exactly sure where they stood, still – sort of in a limbo, she supposed. But Alice had smiled at her that day, and so Bella was still smiling when she plopped down next to Edward in class, taking her rightful place beside him.

"I want to go home," she wailed as she saw their teacher thumbing through a stack of pop quizzes.

Edward nudged her. "Where's the educational spirit?"

"Evaporated," she answered. "Now that my cast is finally gone, I feel like sitting anywhere is a blasphemy."

She watched Edward swallow as he thought about the night that gave her that cast.

"Hey," she said, touching his hand briefly. "I love you."

It slipped out so casually that she had to replay it in her mind over and over before she realized what had happened. Her face heated in a blush redder than first love, and she closed her eyes against the look on his face.

She only opened them again when Mr. Berty plopped a quiz down in front of her face. She chanced a look at Edward, who was bright red, too.

"Don't be embarrassed," he whispered ten minutes later as he got up to turn in his quiz.

After she turned in her quiz, which she was certain she failed, she ripped out a piece of paper and turned to her writing.

_Why shouldn't I be embarrassed?_

He wrote back quickly. _I don't want you to be ashamed of the fact you love me._

She scoffed. _It's not shame. I just don't want to overwhelm you._

_Bella, you loving me could only ever overwhelm in a way I want to be overwhelmed every single day. Now, stop. Will you go somewhere with me?_

_Yes. Anywhere._

He asked her to skip gym, her last period – which was no skin off her nose. She still had an excuse from her broken ankle, so she readily agreed, although he wouldn't tell her where they were going. She called home and left a message on the machine for Charlie so he wouldn't worry, and so she could enjoy her day with Edward guilt-free.

Only when they were heading down the highway did she venture the question again. "Are you kidnapping me? Should I call nine-one-one?"

"That depends," he said, drumming his fingers on the console. "Do you want to be found?"

"Good point." She smiled at him and the familiarity of it all, being surrounded by his scent in his leather seats, driving aimlessly. It felt like summer. It felt like love. It felt like home.

She fiddled with his iPod aimlessly, turning on random songs, shaking her head, and then playing a new one. Soon, Edward was laughing at her.

"If you don't stop I'm going to – " As he spoke, she cranked the volume so loud he couldn't be heard.

The look on his face was priceless and had her doubled over in laughter. He turned down the volume and poked three fingers into her ribs.

"You. Did. Not. Just. Volume. Me." He poked her with each word and she squirmed and laughed harder.

"Watch the road," she demanded, breathless with her joy. "And yes, Edward… you have just been volumed."

He shook his head at her, and then snatched the iPod out of her hands. He turned it onto Yiruma, and they both sobered, listening to the kissing rain.

"You know," she said quietly, "you never played this for me. And you promised you would."

"I did, didn't I?" he murmured, and then took her hand into his.

Her heart swelled. "I guess we promised a lot of things that didn't happen... or did happen."

He kissed her fingers. "I know."

"I promised I would never leave you… and I did."

He nodded. "I remember."

"I don't… I can't blame you for not trusting me. My promises probably mean so little to you now."

He turned to her, and his eyes were so green they were almost black. "Listening to you promise me anything means the world, Bella. Even if I don't believe it today, as long as you're willing to believe I'll believe you someday – that says so much more than I can ever say. I never thought I would have you again. And here you are, in my car, and we're laughing. And joking."

She nodded, and let her hand rest in his.

"And even if we're not together, Bella… we might have broken a lot of promises, but what I said to you all those months ago is still true. You own me." He pressed another kiss to her hand.

"I don't deserve you," she whispered, touching his lips with the backs of her fingers.

"We deserve each other," he answered after a moment, echoing a conversation they had in reverse weeks and weeks ago.

After a moment of just basking in him, she tried again. "So… where are we going?"

"Seattle," he answered, resting her hand on his knee and putting both hands on the steering wheel. It was clear that although he let go of her hand, he was trying to convey that he did not want to stop touching her. "We're going to visit a friend of mine."

XxXxX

"Edward?"

Both Bella and Edward turned at the sound of a female voice. A blonde girl was half-running towards them with a smile on her face. She was very pretty, Bella noted.

Clinically, of course.

She hugged Edward tightly, giving him a squeeze. "Wow, you look much different than the last time I saw you. A little more pep in your step, twinkle in your eye, flush on your cheeks." She patted his face, and then turned to Bella. "You are beautiful."

Bella stared at her, a little taken aback. "Well… my name _is_ Bella, which technically does mean…" She smiled a bit. "I'm kidding. But _you_ really are."

"Thanks, but I'm Jane, which is usually accompanied by the word plain… I clearly was given the raw end of the deal."

Bella laughed. "It just gives you the advantage of surprising people. With me, I have the ability to disappoint."

Jane smiled warmly at her. "You don't."

They were in the crowded food court of a Seattle mall. Bella was starving since she hadn't eaten lunch, so she offered to go get something for all of them.

"I'm good, thanks, Bella," said Jane as she sat next to Edward. Bella didn't even mind.

"Edward?" Bella asked.

"Where are you going?"

She shrugged, looking around. "Panda Express, probably."

"Okay," he said. "Can you get me – "

"Orange chicken, lo mein and two egg rolls? Yes. I'll be right back." She ran her fingers through his hair absently, and he smiled up at her.

When she got back with their trays of food, Edward and Jane were laughing hysterically about something. Bella hadn't seen Edward really lose it like that in so long, and it made her grin as she sat down.

"Care to share?"

"Jane was just telling me a little story about Jasper," Edward explained, trying to catch his breath.

"Jasper," Bella repeated. "I really miss him. How's he doing?"

"Oh, he's _real_ good," Jane said dryly, causing Edward to crack up all over again. "No, okay, why rude Edward over here is laughing is because I was telling him about my accidental discovery."

"Oh god," Bella said slowly, winking at Edward as he thanked her for his food. "I can't wait for this."

"I walked into his apartment last weekend, dropping off some notes he lent me when I was out of class one day, and… well, Alice was over."

Bella stopped with her egg drop soup halfway to her mouth. "Oh no."

"Oh yes," Jane said evilly. "Yes, yes, and yes… all those yeses were all I could hear from a mile away."

Bella choked. "Oh my god."

"That was said quite a bit, too."

"This is disgusting."

"I know," Jane said gleefully. "And then, as I was walking out, my ears bleeding, I heard quite the little gem."

"I don't… Edward, this is your sister!" Bella cried, smacking him as he started laughing again.

"Alice screamed, at the top of her fucking lungs, Bella – 'oh General, it's so good!'"

Edward and Jane dissolved into laughter once more, and Bella let out such a laugh she put her hand over her mouth to muffle the next one.

"What I just said about missing Jasper?" Bella said after she calmed down enough to speak. "Yeah, scratch that. I don't think I'll ever be able to look at him again."

"Bella," Edward said, still chuckling. "All those times you playfully referred to him as General, just think of it…"

She pointed her fork in his direction. "That is quite enough out of you."

They finished up their meal and wandered around the crowded mall, talking and laughing and being disgruntled over the Christmas decorations already going up. Halloween had only been a week and a half ago!

Jane was truly great. She was hilarious and didn't let anything faze her. When a shirt she had picked out didn't ring up on sale like she thought it was, she just shrugged and said it was _only money_ in a way that made it seem like the cashier was an asshole while still complimenting it enough to continue with the purchase. She was effortlessly graceful and charming despite her tendency to drop the f-bomb in every other sentence.

When Bella came back out from the bathroom she had ducked in, she was surprised to walk up behind Edward and Jane fighting.

"…you're just being a stubborn asshole," Jane was hissing.

"Are you serious?"

"That girl is completely fucking nuts about you. Are _you_ serious? She made a big boo boo, that's for fucking sure, but why don't you let her make up for it while being with her? Let her heal you with love instead of this limbo you two are dancing in."

"It's not that simple, Jane."

"Yeah, because you're making it complicated. Look, I kind of want to slap you right now. I remember how you looked when I first met you. Totally fucking lost and pale and just… I mean, you were good looking, but _now_, fucking Christ, Edward. You're beautiful. You're glowing. Because of that girl!"

Edward was silent, and Jane continued.

"I'd give my metaphorical left nut to be in your situation. I'd give anything for Alec to be dancing around me like this, just waiting to be forgiven. And you know what I'd do? I'd fucking forgive him. Because I'm stupid in love with him, and because he may have hurt me, but I'm not doing much better all by myself."

Edward sighed, and then saw Bella kind of lurking awkwardly behind them.

"Are you ready to go?" Edward asked her, his voice different than it had been in days.

"Sure," Bella said slowly, wondering at the coldness of his tone. Bella had appreciated everything Jane said in her defense, but she wasn't sure if she liked it if it made Edward retreat like this.

Jane smiled sadly at her, like she knew what Bella was thinking. "It was so cool to meet you, Bella. Take care of this idiot, okay?" She hooked a thumb at Edward.

"I'll try," said Bella. _If he lets me._

"Just steal my number out of Edward's phone if you're ever in Seattle and want to hang out, okay?"

"Sure," Bella said again, smiling but on the inside worried about Edward's eyes, the color of the Caribbean before a storm.

Once they were back in the car, he was driving like the maniac she was used to. He pulled sharp turns and took chances and she was grasping the seat so tight her knuckles were white as fear.

"Edward, slow down," she whispered, and he did, rolling his shoulders.

This was not going to be a fun ride back.

By the time they arrived back in Forks, it was nighttime and only five words had been spoken between them the whole time. She was on the verge of tears, and she was shocked when he pulled into his driveway.

"Um, Edward…" she said timidly. "I didn't drive my car here. You have to take me home."

"I will when we're finished," he said in a tight voice.

He must have heard the sob that escaped from her throat, because he turned, alarmed.

"Bella?" He reached out for her.

"Don't." She moved away and opened the car door, slamming it behind her. "Just do it then!" she shouted when he climbed out slowly.

"Do what?" he asked carefully.

"Just… just tell me that it's over so I can go home! I can't play this game anymore!"

"What are you talking about?"

"When we're finished," she repeated from his earlier sentence. "Not to mention the fact that you haven't said a word to me the whole way back! That three hours of silence was awesome! I'm so glad I went with you!" She wiped away tears, so hot and angry that she was crying. "I didn't do anything. I didn't even _do_ anything," she repeated.

"You," he said in a low voice, stalking towards her. "Broke my heart."

"What else do you want?" she shrieked, slapping his chest. "I sit with you everyday just to be around you. I'm your puppet, your toy – your _bitch!_"she spat. "I keep hoping that this day, this day will be the one where you decide you can maybe see that even if I can't make up for it yet, I'm willing to try until you see!"

"Until I see what?"

"See – _see what?"_ she screeched. "See that I'm in love with you, Edward! How long do I have to repent? How sorry do you have to see me before you believe? I've done everything and I'll continue to do anything it takes to have you back. Why can't you see that?"

He took a deep breath. "My psychiatrist says that because my trust issues formed so early, it will be difficult to learn to trust anyone… or anything again. Once burnt, twice shy." He smiled ironically.

"Your what?" Bella said after a moment.

"My psychiatrist," he whispered. "Maybe we can continue this inside?"

Ten minutes and Edward's bed later, they were staring at each other from across piles of sheets.

"You're seeing a psychiatrist?" Bella asked finally, hoping she hadn't misheard.

"Yes," he said. "My first appointment was a couple days ago."

Bella crawled across the bed to him, forgetting all about their argument and harsh crimson words, and focused on the swell of lavender inside her heart, carrying her weightlessly to him. She curled up in his lap, wrapping her arms around his waist and buried herself inside him.

"I'm so proud of you," she whispered against his skin, and he held her tighter.

"It was so hard," he said after a moment. "But I want to be the kind of man that deserves you, Bella. One without insurmountable issues who won't fly off the handle at the thought of painting his beautiful girlfriend."

"I don't care," she whispered, pulling her face out of his neck. "I love every piece of you. I was wrong when I walked away. It's not about you painting me. I don't care. I don't care, Edward. I just want you. I couldn't care less about you painting me – it was just… it was stupid. I saw it as the climax to all of your… issues, and I thought if I could resolve that by making you paint me and staying alive… all of your problems would disappear. I'm an idiot. I'm not a doctor, but I'm so glad you're seeing one."

He stared down at her. "Do you really mean that?"

She took a deep breath. "Lie down."

He stared at her for a second before complying. She lifted his shirt over his head, and he laughed breathlessly. "Well, aren't you forward?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Close your eyes."

He did, and she turned to his paints. She couldn't make a picture on him, but she could tell him everything she couldn't say in the way they had originally carved.

She spent the next half an hour painting words on his body of his strength, of his beauty, of his laughter. Of how much she loved him, and how he made her believe in forever. Of how she needed him, and missed everything about him, and how she wanted him inside of her desperately.

She let him look in the mirror like he had for her so many times before, and he had to rest his palms against the counter. He turned, and she smiled tremulously.

"I love you," she whispered.

He moved to her slowly, and then gathered up her hand still riddled with black acrylic. He placed her palm against his chest, on top of his heart, smearing the still wet words she had written over it.

"This," he said slowly, "will always be yours. Please…" He swallowed. "Please, be careful with it."

She breathed out, and he breathed in.

And then he kissed her. She cried against his lips as his trembled on top of hers, sweet, slow, unsure. Then the fire picked up, and she was in his arms, and he was carrying her back into his room.

"I love you so much," he breathed into her skin as his nose skimmed the line between her shoulder and neck. He brought his mouth back up to hers for a wet, loud kiss. "And I need you."

"How?" she asked, watching his eyes as he pulled her shirt away from her body for the first time in over a month. "How do you need me?"

And he answered the question by the look in his eyes, the way his heart had always been laid out to her, and the way his soul was out there for all to see, begging her and wanting her -

"Bare."

* * *

Are you guys ready to forgive me now? Ready to forgive Bella?

First order of business, I signed up for formspring, that annoying thing that spams your twitter. Except, mine doesn't spam, and Paintward is there! You can ask me anything about my writing or just... about me, which would be weird, for I am boring. But you can also ask any of my Bare characters questions, and they shall answer. I suppose you are bursting with things to say after this chapter - at least, I hope.  
http : / www . formspring . me / pinkeveningsky just without all the annoying spaces.

Second order of business, I'm going to need you all to drop everything and read this fic. It's called** How To Save A Life** by unholyobsession and it's just incredible. It features a strong, likable Bella and an Edward with secrets that you want to squeeze. Her writing is clean and insanely good, and it's ridiculous that she barely has 700 reviews for the beauty she writes. It's on my favorites list, and it should be towards the top - it just updated! Run, don't walk.

Also, just a reminder - I'm still getting questions about some of Edward's motives during the breakup, and all of the questions were answered in the one-shot I did of the breakup in EPOV! It's on my profile, and it's called "Bound." Yes, I do have a twitter - twitter dot com slash pinkeveningsky is the address.

And... I suck. this is long. I love you all so much. I hope your holidays were beautiful.


	23. A Cold and Broken Hallelujah

Hey! Okay, first things first - I'm getting a lot of questions about Jane! It's all in the one-shot I wrote, Bound, of Edward's POV of the break up. It can be found on my profile, and it explains a lot of what I didn't in Bare about that backstory, along with why Esme let Bella go, etc. Check that out, and thank autumnltd for making me write it!

Second - thanks so much. Everyone says this, but you guys are the best. Such passionate, beautiful reviews. And even to those who don't review... I appreciate you too, for just taking the time out of your day to scan your eyes across my words. To everyone - I love you. Truly.

Thanks to my betas, my triangle of lurve.

Bare will be ending at chapter 25. I'm moving back to school - Christmas break is over, wahhh - so the updates will be a little less frequent. But, since we're almost done... that's a bit more acceptable, right? Maybe?

**Disclaimer: **Y'all know me, the still same old G - okay, I'm not dr. dre and I'm not Stephenie Meyer.

* * *

**A Cold and Broken Hallelujah **

Bella was fairly well versed in romance novels. She had read ones from all different genres – fantasy, young adult, drama, and most recently, erotica. There was this one line that, no matter what was happening in the book – whether it was a fast paced car chase followed by a quickie in the backseat, or the first kiss of the hero and heroine – that always showed up.

_It had never felt like this before._

So, she was a little disgusted at her lack of originality as she fisted her hands in Edward's hair and thought that very line. She didn't have previous experience before him, and he had been a lot of ways with her – sweet, tender, slow, a little rough, and a little sloppy that one time in the summer they had the taste of flat beer on their tongues.

But it had never, ever been like this with him. This was the flash of fire on tender wood, orange so blinding it left sparks behind her eyes. This was consumption. This was creation.

This was art.

She tugged on his hair, bringing his lips back up to hers from where they had been dragging down her stomach. She knew where he had been headed, and even though his raspberry tongue against her pinkest skin had always left her writhing, she needed him as close as possible tonight. When he was down between her legs, the closest she had of him was the flash of malachite above her pubic bone and his fission colored hair.

His lips came back to hers, his mouth already open, his tongue out and seeking, and she was so hot that their foreheads couldn't stay glued together. They slipped against each other on the sweat, and his pants were cool against her overheated skin.

Did kisses even exist like this? The open mouths, the lolling tongues and swollen lips against sharp teeth? The gasps that breathed midnight air, expelling carbon dioxide and receiving oxygen, with grunts and groans and sounds she would never, ever want to listen to herself make?

She had a quick thought of how strange it was – she was a fairly articulate girl, and he was an articulate man, and what was it about naked skin and burning, wet aches that reduced them to cavemen?

His fingers raked down, leaving hot pink lines down her ivory skin, and his long digits plucked at her tight nipples. She arched up into him and bit his chin, her hot breath fanning back in an embarrassingly red gasp, and he came forward so hard, her head slammed into the headboard.

"Oh god, I'm sorry," he groaned, reaching up to cradle her head. She slapped his hand away, and his nostrils flared. "Have it your way, then."

He pressed into her suddenly, without any warning, and her whole body bowed off the bed. He wrapped an arm around her back, cupping the arch of her against his chest, and began to move.

It was almost familiar, their rhythm. They hadn't exactly been celibate over the summer, once figuring out each other's bodies and how exactly to play them. She knew now where to wrap her legs, where to hang her arms, when to thrust her own hips. She had been comfortable in her role as his lover – it was natural, just like being his best friend.

But this movement of his, right then, at that moment, was anything but familiar. It was like coming home and seeing that every bit of furniture, every trinket, every possession she owned was moved into a different space than she had left it. All of it was still there, all of it was still hers, but she had no idea how to function in the new environment.

She heard her own voice murmuring his name, and she heard his voice calling hers back. She felt the friction inside her body from every tip forward his hips made, and the way every white-hot inch of him pressed into her, like he had been born to make love like this. She grabbed at his hair as his elbows came down to the bed, and every single cell of his skin was pressed to hers, and they were kissing, hot and wet and open, and she dug her heels into his back to keep him going.

Then she felt the desire to do something she had never felt before. They had done it, but at his coaxing, and she had been shy, palming her own breasts so they wouldn't move around too much – but now she wanted it, above him, his eyes on her as every part of her moved by the motion of their bodies.

She nudged him over onto his back, and his eyes rolled back into his head as she sunk down onto him, holding his hot shaft in one fist, and her other hand planted firmly in the middle of his chest.

"Bella, Bella, fuck…" His hands went to her breasts immediately, and she jutted them out, proud of the aroused, tight nipples, pink and perfect under his tongue. He sucked one into his mouth as she started moving, and mumbled around it, his words and tongue wet against her skin.

"Is this… am I…" she asked breathlessly, moving forward to plant herself more firmly against the bed. She figured leverage was the best way to go, because bouncing was awkward and didn't feel like much.

"Here," he whispered, and sat up a bit, propped like a prince against his pillows, and she loved him so much that she crashed forward, demanding his kiss as he moved her hips and settled her into a guided rhythm, their bodies ticking like a metronome.

And it continued, his feet firmly planted against the bed, helping his disjointed, frantic thrusts, and she eventually gave up trying to control anything and practically fell against him, their foreheads mashed together.

"I need you, oh god, don't ever leave me, please," he gasped, his fingers pressing into her skin, marking her, painting her with indigo dots he would feel bad for in the morning.

"I can't, I couldn't, I love you, Edward… what are you, I think I'm…" She had never climaxed from intercourse, no matter how much he had tried to coax her into it with flicks of his fingers against her clit, or a new angle. It had always felt amazing, but it had never brought her there.

But this feeling was different. This build up was different from his mouth and fingers, because this was him, and she was so full, and her body had something to attach to as it started flexing its inner muscles in release.

"Bella, Bella, yes, give it to me, sweet girl…" He caught her in a kiss, scorching her with the burn of a dying star, a blue giant supernova.

And she did, and then collapsed against his chest, her body exhausted, exorcised.

He laughed against her neck and flipped them over again. "Checking out so soon?"

She smiled sleepily up at him and shook her head. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his thrusts picked back up, and pressed her forehead against his sternum and listened to his wildly beating heart.

When he came, he was silent, his mouth open and eyes screwed shut, like he was almost in pain. Then he slumped, all one hundred sixty pounds of him against her body, and she let out an oomph.

"You are so fat," she whispered, laughing, kicking at him but not really minding his sweaty, exhausted weight.

"I know," he sighed happily.

She pushed his hair back from his forehead, watching the little beads of sweat travel into his eyebrows.

"You aren't fat," she murmured. "But I do need to go clean up."

"Shut up, woman," he told her. "Let me bask in my post-coital glow."

"Oh," she laughed. "So you think you are some sort of sex god now? That lasted what, ten minutes? Pffft."

"I rocked your world." He burrowed his face into her sweaty hair, and she could feel his yawn against her neck.

"You did," she agreed. "But then I got up there and rocked it myself."

He laughed; she smiled at the vibration of it against her skin. "Oh, so you think you are some sex goddess now? I did all the work. Pffft."

She was quiet for a moment, just enjoying his steady breathing and the heat of his body she had missed for so long. She wasn't sure if she deserved this happiness, but he was offering it to her, so she would take it.

She eventually left the bed to clean herself up, kissing Edward's face until he stopped whining. When she walked back out of the bathroom, he was still awake, spread eagle on his stomach and looking straight at her with sleepy eyes.

He had the cutest butt, and she told him so. He laughed and grabbed the covers, flinging the sheet over both of them as she lay down against his back.

"Edward," she whispered after a moment of trailing her fingers over his skin.

"Hmmm?"

"Can you forgive me?" she asked quietly. Big gestures were great, her first intercourse-induced orgasm was amazing, but she was a girl who needed her words.

He opened his eyes and stared straight at her. His eyes were almost silver with the way the rare moon gleamed off of them through the window. "Bella?"

"Can you?" she asked again. "I hope you can, because…" She took a huge breath, and let it out. She watched the air gust blow back some of Edward's hair, and that strange connection between their bodies powered her speech. "Because I honestly don't know how to live without you."

He reached out his hand and touched her face with his artist's fingers. They were rough and scratched from the years of harsh paint and their chemicals, but they were gentle against her. "Come here," he said after a moment, and he drew her to him and kissed her, and that was the only answer she would ever need.

XxXxX

She almost had a panic attack the next morning as Edward tried to coax her downstairs for breakfast.

"No!" she said frantically. "They know what we've been doing – what if they heard us, Edward?"

He rolled his eyes. "Their sons and daughters are legally related, and they do it all the time. At least we're not being incestuous."

She laughed, but then remembered her panic. "Don't distract me. Oh my god, I haven't spoken to Esme since… she probably… I can't even – "

Edward took her face in his hands and kissed her soundly. "Esme adores you, Bella. I think she was the most upset about our break up."

"Even more upset than you?" she teased.

He thunked her in the forehead with a flick of his forefinger. "Never, sweet girl." Then he stood her up. "Bella, please. I want… I want to move forward. I know we can't ever have what we did. It was blind and innocent and it was us… and it was ours. But we're not those people any more. But you're still my Bella, and I'm still Edward, and I still want you. I want… to make something new. Something…"

"Infallible," she whispered, taking his hand. "I'm being such a baby. I keep saying I'll do anything for you – it's about time I show it. Let's go."

But as they walked down the stairs, a feeling of unease settled over her heart. She would never forget the look on Alice's face the morning after Bella had left Edward, and the words she had said. The way this family had relied on Bella to lead Edward towards therapy, towards a light and a world she was not prepared for. All Bella had ever tried to do was love Edward and show him that he was wanted by her, problems or not. Well, she had failed in that regard once, and she wasn't ever going to do it again – but did they honestly expect that she was a mind reader?

They had never sat her down and told her to try to get Edward to see that he needed help beyond their love. Bella would have been happy to try to talk to Edward about it – she adored him and wanted his health and happiness. Why hadn't they come to her? Why had they left her in the dark?

It all came crashing down on her. Edward was beautiful, wonderful, her best friend and her everything – but his family? Did she want to be friends with the kind of people who expected her to read their minds, and then abandon her when she didn't and made her own decision regarding a relationship that was none of their business?

She rounded the corner downstairs with her hand tucked safely in Edward's. When they entered the kitchen, three heads looked up and all of them wore brilliant smiles.

"Bella, sweet," Esme said, rising to give her a hug. "We're so… I'm so…" She reached Bella and gave her a hug that Bella returned. She had missed Esme.

But as she took a step back and gazed at their faces, all she could see was her hurt. Esme who had fired her at a time it was a little too coincidental. Carlisle who was a doctor but still expected Bella to have the knowledge he couldn't even voice about his son. And Alice, who had been Bella's best friend, who had deserted her when she needed a friend the most.

Edward felt her tense up and rubbed a soothing hand over her spine. "Maybe after breakfast, all of us can talk?" he ventured.

"Yes," said Bella, looking up at him with a smile. "I'd like that."

Breakfast was a tense affair. She and Edward were being stared at like cute caged animals, and it was grating on Bella's nerves. Her love for him was not a secret, but it was also very private to her – near, dear and intimate – and to have it watched by people who would just as soon cast her out of their lives was very irritating.

Esme cleared the plates, and then came back to the table, ready for their discussion.

"I think Bella has some things she would like to say," Edward said awkwardly, giving Bella her introduction.

"I assume this to mean you are back together?" Carlisle asked after a pregnant pause.

Edward and Bella looked at each other with a 'ew, gross' face and shook their heads. But then they both started laughing.

Carlisle smiled genuinely. "I'm so happy for you both. I hope this time it lasts for as long as you both wish it to."

Bella opened her mouth to speak, but then she saw Edward mouth a word at her.

_Forever._

She swallowed back tears. He had never said something like that before, so blatantly. _Forever_, she mouthed back with every bit of her heart.

"So, what do we need to talk about?" Esme asked after a happy moment of watching her son and a girl she loved as a daughter speak to each other without words.

Bella turned and squeezed Edward's hand. She had not spoken this aloud to him, so this might be a shock to him, also.

"I feel…" Bella gathered her strength. "What I did to Edward was something I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself for."

"That's between you and Edward, Bella," Esme said.

Bella nodded her head. "Exactly. And why it didn't stay between us, I'll never know. I understand your loyalty to him. If someone hurt him, I'd be first in line to rip their heads off. But I was so… lost in a sea of his – his – "

"My issues," Edward supplied easily.

"Hmmm," Bella murmured, hating that word. "That I didn't know where to begin. I thought by giving him some sort of ultimatum with the painting, I could cure it by staying alive. Stupid, childish – I know. Even if that would have worked, maybe Edward would have been so terrified of me leaving his sight, we would have been torn apart anyway." She shrugged. "I honestly don't know."

"That's a possibility," Carlisle said slowly, clearly unsure where Bella was going with this.

"But to expect me to lead him in the direction of therapy without even talking to me about it? To shun me after I've forged relationships with all of you – I love every single one of you – just because I made a decision that I thought was best at the time, having to do with my relationship with him?"

Bella looked from Carlisle to Esme and back. They had very puzzled looks on their faces.

"Bella, is this about your job? Sweet, I promise you that Lucy came back from maternity leave right then – I can show you the email…" Esme looked really confused.

"No, I understand that. But…" Her voice shook a bit. "Why did you have to let me go? I hate my stupid job at Newton's. I loved that job more than anything."

"Newton's?" Edward asked with a laugh. "Is that where you're working now?"

Bella smacked him. "Shut up. I had little choice!"

He sobered quickly. "Bella, ah… you can't really… that's kind of my fault. Your job, I mean."

"You told Esme to fire me?" she asked incredulously.

"No," Esme said quickly. "I asked Edward what _you _would want, Bella. I didn't want to make it uncomfortable on you to be around your ex's mother. He said you mentioned something about a clean break, and that… he just wanted you to be happy, sweet. He wasn't trying to be malicious."

Bella didn't have a hard time believing that. Edward didn't have a malicious bone in his body.

"Bella," Esme continued. "I didn't want to let you go. You must know how special you are to me."

Bella smiled. "You're special to me, too." She sighed and started picking at the ends of her hair. "I just don't understand. If we were so close, like I thought we were… why didn't you just tell me that you wanted me to talk to Edward about getting therapy? You know I would have. Edward's health and happiness means so much to me."

Carlisle cleared his throat. "That's where we're a bit confused, Bella. Do you mind elaborating on that?"

Bella nodded and took a deep breath. Edward squeezed her hand. "After I left Edward, the next morning, Alice came to my house. She talked to me and told me how you all expected me to kind of… guide Edward's way towards therapy. I just think that's really unfair… how was I supposed to know? Of course I want that for him, but…" She looked up, expecting to meet Carlisle's guilty gaze.

Instead, Esme and Carlisle were staring at Alice, who had yet to speak. Bella looked over at her and was startled to see tears sliding down the tiny girl's face.

"Alice said that?" Esme asked incredulously. "Alice?"

She started to cry in earnest. "Don't hate me," Alice sobbed.

"I don't understand," Bella said, her heart clenching as she watched Alice break down.

Esme looked like she was trying not to yell. "Bella. Carlisle and I… we've talked about getting Edward help for years, but he always resisted it. We knew he wasn't ready to talk, and we were patient with him. You can't help someone who isn't ready to help themselves, you know?"

Bella nodded.

"Well, when you came around… I know everyone says this. But you have no idea the change your love inflicted in Edward. I've never seen him smile so much, laugh so much. Talk so much, even. Carlisle and I had discussed – amongst ourselves – you maybe being the one to make Edward want to help himself. We actually _were_ going to broach the subject with you, but the opportunity never came because you two split, and Edward came to us and said he wanted to get help without any outside source influencing him. I don't know what Alice told you, but we would _never_ put that weight on you, Bella – at least not without your complete and total consent."

Bella turned to Alice, who was crying silently now, watching. "Why?" she asked quietly.

Alice took a big gulp of air. "From the first day I saw you, Bella – I knew you could help. I just felt it. I had been suggesting people for Edward to paint forever, believing like you did – that if he could just paint one person and they not have anything traumatic happen to them, then he would be cured. So when I saw you that day, when you first came to school, I suggested it to Edward, expecting the same blasé response he always gave.

"But he turned around and looked at you, and his whole body relaxed, and then tensed. He showed more adversity to painting you, a girl he never even spoken to, than any other girl we knew. So I befriended you and grew to love you, and so did my brother. I just knew that you would be the one to help him – inadvertently or otherwise."

"I still don't understand," Bella said.

"About a week before you two split, I overheard Esme and Dad talking about it. I must have misunderstood, because I got the impression that they had already spoken to you about it. And then when you broke up with him, I thought you broke up with him after having heard Dad and Esme ask you to lead him towards therapy… and then instead, you took it into your own hands, and made him regress. I just – it was none of my business, and I was out of line, especially now knowing how wrong I was. I love my brother, but Bella… you were my best friend, my sister. I just hope one day you can forgive me."

Bella took in a deep breath and thought about forgiveness. Having the power to forgive was such a strange thing to hold – the ability to alter someone's happiness by just a word. She looked up at Edward, who was gazing down at her with nothing but unabashed adoration on his face, and that made up her mind for her.

She was tired of hurting. She was tired of being lonely. She was tired of walking around as small pieces of her former self – she wanted to glue herself back together, differently this time, but with all the same ingredients.

If Edward could forgive Bella for a horrible mistake, then Bella could forgive someone she loved, too.

She stood and walked over to Alice, who stared up at her, afraid.

"You hurt me," Bella whispered. "But I know that I hurt you, too. I forgive you. I love you." Then she bent down and gave Alice a hug, and they clung to each other for a long time.

Then the hugs were passed around, and they all laughed as the tense air dissipated.

"Bella," Esme called as Edward took her hand and tried to lead her back upstairs. "What's that on your neck, sweet?"

Edward laughed in her ear. "Gotcha," he whispered.

"Ugh!" Bella cried, covering her neck with both hands while kicking at Edward's shins.

He grabbed her up and kissed her, and all the fight left her body at once.


	24. She Will Be Loved

Hi lovely people. Announcements down below.

Thank you to everyone who has been by my side, whether it be from day one or just an hour ago. You are loved.

Dear Beta, thanks for always making me laugh and for the Alex pics when I am being distracted. Love, Alpha.

**Disclaimer:** The characters are still not mine, but the words still are.

* * *

**She Will Be Loved**

_My ankle is still weak from breaking it all those months ago. I was angry at myself for twisting it in the snow, but Edward's hands were warm as they touched the swollen skin, and his chapped lips were perfect against the arch of my foot. It isn't too bad, just a bit tender, but Carlisle says to stay off of it for the rest of the day._

_I was upset about this for a while until I dragged this notebook out of my bag and sat next to the window. Even though it's freezing outside, the white winter breathing ice down my neck, I opened the window to listen to the sound of Edward laughing with his siblings. His laughter is still the most beautiful music in the world, better than anything he can create with his long fingers against ivory keys pale as snow. _

_They're in the middle of a snowball fight, and he is flushed and freezing, bright pink spots that shame any doll's cheeks visible from up here on the second floor. His hair is a flame against the cold, and every time he gets hit and laughs, I smile so wide I fear my face is splitting in half. _

_He just glanced up and noticed me watching him. He gave me such a sweet look that I want to drag him up here into a hot bath and just sit with him in the water, thawing him out and heating him up._

_Sometimes I love him so much I can't breathe. The past two months have been some of the most difficult of my life, but at the end of the day I still have him and that is all that has ever mattered to me. Earning his trust back has not been easy. Some days we have screamed, some days we have cried, but every day we have loved, and every day we have only wanted to be together, and that has carried us through it all._

_He started on a cocktail of medications that they are still adjusting, so sometimes he is groggy and moody. Sometimes all he wants to do is lay in my lap, and sometimes all he wants is me bare and underneath him. Sometimes he sleeps the full night, his deep breaths dampening my skin, and sometimes I wake up (as does the whole house) to the sound of a banging, angry piano or an easel flying across the room. _

_Is it easy with him? No. But it is always, always worth it. _

Cold hands snaked their way around Bella's eyes as she closed the notebook. She shrieked from the temperature and not the fingers; she would know those anywhere.

"You are freezing," she gasped, wrenching his digits away from her face. She whipped around and faced the winter warrior, dripping wet with melting snow and glowing with the cold.

"You are so warm," he countered, dropping his head down to kiss her. She gave in willingly, opening her lips for him and marveling at the contrast – the heat of his mouth against the chill of his lips. He backed away and began to strip himself of his wet clothes. "How is your ankle?"

She did not answer. She was too busy admiring the blocks of muscle he had formed against his stomach with a basic workout plan Emmett had helped him with over Skype one night. It had helped focus the raging sea into something visceral, and it had very… aesthetically pleasing results.

He snapped his fingers at her. "Miss Swan?" But he was grinning, always delighted when he caught her blatantly checking him out.

"My ankle is just fine, Mister Cullen." She stood. "Watch." She hobbled over to him and grabbed him by his belt loops, pulling him close for another kiss.

"The patient appears to be miraculously healed," he murmured against her lips.

"Yes, your love is a balm for any ailment." She laughed when he made retching noises. "What, you don't like my poetry?"

"I love it when it comes from your heart," he said, placing his hand over her beating organ. "Not when it comes from you trying to get in my pants." He slid his hand down and squeezed her left breast in his palm, and she swatted him away.

"Am I interrupting something?"

They both turned at the sound of Jasper's voice. He was leaning against the door jam, just as wet and cold as Edward. His burnt amber curls were hanging in his eyes and whipped around his head, and he looked slightly ridiculous. She told him so.

"Always with the compliments, fair Bella." He bowed slightly at the waist. "I was bid to inform you that my dear sister and her behemoth boyfriend shall be arriving in t-minus ten minutes."

Bella and Edward exchanged excited glances. They hadn't seen Rosalie or Emmett since they had left in September, and now they were coming home for Christmas. She was so thrilled to have all the Cullens and Hales back in one place, and Edward looked to be just as happy.

"Thanks, General," Bella said with a mock salute. Then she heard Edward's choked laughter behind her, and she flushed dark crimson when reminded of the faux pas behind Jasper's nickname.

When he left, Edward adopted a high-pitched voice. "Oh General, it's so good!"

"Stop it," Bella demanded, trying not to laugh. Edward kissed her once more, and then made his way over to the bathroom for a quick shower.

She glanced at the notebook, sitting there, waiting for more words. She gave in to its siren call.

_I missed Jasper so much. I still replay seeing him for the first time in over two months in my mind. I have always felt a strange connection to him – nothing romantic or sexual, but not brotherly, either. If Edward shares my heart and my soul, then Jasper shares my mind. _

_I was sitting in the living room with Edward, watching reruns of _The Joy of Painting _featuring Edward's hero, Bob Ross, when the front door opened. I turned towards the sound, expecting to see Esme bustling in with a new blueprint in her hands or Alice with some shopping bag hanging from her fingers. But instead, it was Jasper, looking taller and more handsome than ever._

_I was paralyzed. I hadn't seen him since September, when he took off to Seattle – the day after I had broken up with Edward. I had no idea about his opinion of me, whether he thought I deserved to burn for my mistake, or whether he still cared about me at all. I remember the way my heart thumped painfully, and I could barely swallow around the anxiety. Of all the Cullens and Hales, Edward and Alice non-withstanding, he was the one I cared for the most._

_Edward stood up, surprised but pleased by his brother's reappearance. We were even more shocked when Jane peaked her head around, looking timid in the doorway of the massive casa de Cullen._

"_Hi!" Edward had said, breathless with excitement. I hung back as they all hugged. _

_Jane moved away from Edward quickly and came at me, pulling me into a fierce embrace. She whispered how happy she was for both of us, and then she usurped my attention for the next hour. We talked about almost everything under the sun, and she made me laugh just as much as she had that day in Seattle. _

_She is now one of my closest and most dear friends. _

_Jasper didn't approach me until later that night, after Esme and I had whipped up an impromptu dinner for his random return. He pulled me aside, and I was so nervous by that point that I couldn't even look him in the eye._

"_I know what happened," he said in his quiet way. Then he scratched his chin, covered with caramel colored scruff. "Even the greatest soldiers make mistakes sometimes, fair Bella."_

_When he called me 'fair Bella,' I started crying. Not sobs, nothing embarrassing, just grateful hot tears. He hugged me for at least five minutes, letting me get it out, and then we never spoke of it again. _

_And now_

The front door slammed, and then Bella heard Emmett's great voice calling for their attention.

"We're home, familia!"

Bella jumped up like she had been electrocuted and bounded down the stairs, not even waiting for Edward. She laughed with total joy as she saw the beautiful corn-silk hair of the girl, and the broad shoulders of the man who had bellowed.

"Bella!" he shouted, and he scooped her up into his arms, spinning her around.

"Careful, there," Rosalie said in her quiet voice. Bella had missed her accent so much; it was like music. "She's got a brace on her ankle, Em. Put her down real slow."

"I missed you," Bella breathed as soon as Emmett put her down, and wrapped her arms around Rosalie's neck.

Rosalie was not a hugger, and so it surprised her greatly when the ethereal woman gave her back a fierce hug. "It's good to be home," she said quietly. "You look real beautiful, Bella."

"Don't let her hug you so tight, Rose," Emmett said softly, placing a big hand across Rosalie's flat stomach.

"I'm sorry," Bella said automatically. "Did I hurt you?" Then she took in the big picture, and her eyes widened. "Are you - ?"

Rosalie put a delicate finger to her lips with a small smile. "Hush now."

The rest of the family poured in, and more hugs were given, and Emmett watched his love with a cautious eye.

The cat was out of the bag when Rosalie refused a glass of wine at dinner that night. She confirmed their questions with a nod of her head.

"It's all I've ever wanted," she whispered, and they all joined her in tears. "Y'all stop. I'm fixing to lose it if y'all keep looking at me like that."

"I'm going to be an uncle," Edward whispered to Bella.

"The most perfect uncle there ever was," Bella agreed, squeezing his fingers under the table. He looked dazed, and then he retreated in silence.

A few hours later, Edward walked Bella out to her truck. The snow was coming down softly, piling in Edward's hair and on the tips of his eyelashes. He had been quiet all evening, laying against her knees and sketching random things and only giving noncommittal answers when asked questions.

He gave her a sweet kiss. "Be careful on the roads, please," he whispered against her lips. "Is your ankle okay to drive on?"

"It feels fine," Bella said. "Can I ask you something?"

He made a noise of assent, running his knuckles against her cheek.

"Why does being an uncle frighten you so much?" she wondered.

He thought for a moment. "I can't put it in words," he said finally. "Yellow." His voice was barely a whisper.

"It's okay," she said, accepting his apology. "Tell me however you can."

He took a deep breath. They had been trying this lately, and sometimes it worked and sometimes it made him insane.

"It's like… the grey you find in the bowels of nature. The brown no one wants on their palate. The midnight blue you never want to walk into alone."

"You're afraid of…" She ran the colors through her mind and spit them back into words. "He or she will be the first person you will love without having to get to know. The first person who will love you without knowing your past and how it affects you now."

"More so the latter," he said quietly. "How do you do this to me?"

"You let me," she said simply. "And Edward, I know all of your bad bits and your good bits and the bits of you that no one else gets to see, and I'm so in love with you. Don't be so worried. There's plenty on the surface to love, but there is more in the core."

He smiled at her. "I love you, too, Bella." He opened the door of her truck for her and helped her inside. "Please be careful. Call me when you get home?"

"Always," she told him. "I love you."

"I know," he said with a small smile, and sometimes that was the most perfect response.

XxXxX

Bella was still half asleep the next morning when her phone rang. Groggily, she rolled over and looked at the name.

_Jane Volter_

Putting it to her ear, she murmured a sleepy hello.

"Way to not answer my fucking texts last night, Bella!"

"It's so early," Bella groaned. "Too early for your theatrics and four letter words."

"Sex coma?"

"I wish," Bella yawned. "I had to change birth controls, and Edward has this ridiculous aversion to condoms now, so we've barely – wait, okay, I know you didn't call me for this. What happened?"

"I met the most incredible guy. Seriously. In-fucking-credible."

Bella perked up immediately. For Jane to get over her asshole ex-boyfriend was at the top of Bella's Christmas wish-list, and the gushing words leaving her lips definitely sounded positive.

"Oh? Tell me more." Bella rubbed her eyes and tried to give Jane her full attention.

"His name is Liam, and he's got this sexy as fuck Irish accent that I can't even understand sometimes, but who even cares, you know? We seriously just stared at each other for hours last night, and then we started making out, and he slept over, and then made me breakfast and oh my god, I can't even breathe. I know this sounds ridiculous, especially to your ears, with your perfect beautiful love story, but Bella, oh my god. I've made out with so many people, but it's not been like this – you know? Oh god, of course you know. When did you know Edward was it for you?"

She was about to answer Jane with a laugh when she really registered what she said. _When did you know Edward was it for you?_

"Bella?"

"Sorry, yeah, you know – "

"Oh come on, Bella. You know that you and Edward will be together forever. The kind of love you two have doesn't come along everyday, and you both would be idiots to throw that away. Now, let's focus on the not so obvious here. What the fuck am I going to do about Liam?"

If Jane could be so confident, then why couldn't Bella? She didn't know what was in store for the future, but who did? All she could do was move confidently in the direction of her greatest desire, greatest dream.

"Okay, well, first of all, how many times are you going to use fuck in a sentence? Second of all…" Bella continued her speech, laughing a lot and scolding a lot, but completely overjoyed for her friend and with the knowledge that she was going to hold on to Edward for the amount of time she was no longer afraid of: forever.

Christmas was a festive day. Charlie and Bella went over the Cullen's after eating breakfast and opening gifts, and they spent the rest of the day there, surrounded by their extended family.

Charlie left at about nine that evening, and everyone was sleepy, full to the brim with turkey and wrapped up in the peace of a beautiful Christmas. Edward and Bella made their way upstairs, calling goodnights out to everyone.

They lay on Edward's bed for a while, just touching each other's skin in quiet reverence before he backed away.

"I have something for you," he said quietly.

"You already gave me a gift," she scolded, thinking of the beautiful fountain pen he had presented to her earlier that day.

"Bella, please. Since when is Christmas about fairly ratio'd gifts?" At her scoff, he held up a hand. "Besides, it's more for me than you. Okay?"

"Okay," she acquiesced quietly. "Let's have it."

He pulled out a tube of silver and white paint. "Ta-da."

She raised her eyebrows. "Well isn't that the best gift ever? Watch me as I make a fool of myself trying to paint compared to my prodigy boyfriend."

"Shush, whiner," he said, kissing her quickly. "Close your eyes."

She did, and then leaned back against the pillows. He took her left hand in his, and then she felt cool paint swirl around her fourth finger.

"Edward," she gasped.

"Shhhh," he murmured. "Open your eyes."

She looked down, and he had painted a somewhat cruel interpretation of an engagement ring on her finger.

"Edward," she choked again. "What is – I don't – "

"We're young," he said, stopping her. "But I've also lived a life many adults haven't. I know your value to me. I know your worth. You're irreplaceable. One day, I want to be able to wake up to you every single morning, and feel your breath on my chest every single night. I know that day can't be today, or tomorrow, or any time soon. But, Bella – know this." He took a deep breath. "I know you have your qualms about young love lasting forever."

"Edward – "

He held up a hand. "Let me finish. I know you have those concerns. But this isn't a young love for me. This isn't a test run. A practice. This is the real deal. I feel like I've loved you my whole life, but I still feel like there are so many parts of you I haven't discovered yet, parts of you that I haven't had the chance to adore. I want that. I want that always."

She swallowed and stared into his beautiful face for a long time.

"Say something," he implored eventually.

Instead, she grabbed the tube of silver paint. "Close your eyes."

Smiling with shaking lips, he did so. She painted a circle around his fourth finger on his left hand, and not two seconds after she put down the brush, Edward was kissing her, laughing and crying and trembling.

"I can't take this lightly," he said between kissing her, between stealing her breath.

"Don't," she whispered.

They made love, slow and sweet; the only noise was the rush of the sheets against their skin as their bodies moved together. And when they slept, he intertwined their fingers so the their two matching bands of paint touched all night.

* * *

The next chapter will be the last full chapter! I will be doing an epilogue - I was really debating about not doing one - but I had an idea, so yes, you will get an epilogue.

Most importantly, I will be doing a few outtakes. And because I am so sweet (right? right!), you all get to choose. In your review, or in a review, or in a tweet (pinkeveningsky), tell me the outtakes you are dying to see from Bare! The ones that get the most mentions will be the ones I am doing. But they will be a surprise until posted, mwahaha.

xox, Stella ella eh eh ehhhh


	25. The Color of Your Soul

I'm practically in tears as I write this. This is the last chapter of Bare. There will be an epilogue coming soon, but it's not necessary to read the epilogue to finish the fic. All the epilogue will be is a small glimpse into the future.

So many people to thank. This was my first Twific, and it's so scary to embark on that journey. Thank you to everyone who has recommended Bare, favorited Bare, reviewed Bare, alerted Bare, author alerted me... even to those who think it's a flowery piece of purple prose, thank you for reading it anyway.

Thank you especially to Ali, who has been there from the very beginning. You are my sunshine, my only sunshineeee... etc, etc.

**Disclaimer:** Until we meet again, this is not mine.

* * *

**The Color of Your Soul**

_Winter always turns into spring, doesn't it? The white melts and the green grows and the world changes right before your eyes. One day, I woke up and the ground was clear, and I could wear a light jacket. And now, it is June, and I am graduating in a little under two hours. _

_Has my life changed since I wrote in this notebook last? Sure, I'd say so. It has been roughly six months since the ice of Christmas lay on the ground and covered our cheeks with pink little bites. It's now warm enough for a tank top, warm enough for Edward and I to lie in the meadow for hours, and let the sun color our faces. _

_I decided on UW for the fall. Jane and I are going to be roommates – can you believe it? We're getting a student apartment on campus, which are ugly and boring, but ours all the same. After much deliberation, Edward decided not to go to college in the Fall. Instead, he was offered a full-time art teaching position at the art studio he always guest teaches at in Port Angeles._

_This means there will be distance between Edward and I for the first time in our relationship. We're not naïve enough (anymore) to believe that it will be easy, but as always, if we're able to be together… it's worth it for both of us. _

_We still have a summer to look forward to. Last summer, we were just getting together – getting used to each other, the newness and the foreign feelings, and it was beautiful in its own way. This summer I hope we can dedicate to reverence… to truly appreciating what we have, the bright white pulsing, thrumming star that always leads us home. We're young, but we've come to figure out that our love is anything but._

"Bella?"

Bella looked around. She placed her pen on the pages and looked up at her handsome father, shuffling in a suit. "Yes?"

"You about ready?" he asked, holding a box in his hand.

"Yes," she answered, smoothing her bright yellow gown. She vaguely remembered this time last year, watching Rosalie and Emmett and Jasper cross the stage, waving their diplomas in the air in triumph. "What are you holding?"

Charlie looked a little bashful. "It's, ah… well." He shoved the box towards her, and she took it, grinning at his fuchsia cheeks.

"It's a corsage," she grinned, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Thank you, Dad…" She hugged him tightly. He smelled like smoke and clean air. "Help me?"

Twenty minutes and a corsage on her wrist later, they pulled into the Forks High School parking lot. It was packed full of cars and pedestrians, all of which seemed to slow down once the cruiser rolled in.

Bella got out as Charlie went to find a place to park. She was bombarded with a hug.

"Oh, Bella!" It was Angela, nearly crying with joy. "Can you believe it's finally here?"

Bella shook her head, enjoying her friend's pure blue excitement. "I truly can't."

They looped arms and walked towards the field, waving at random people who called out hellos. She couldn't find a Cullen or a Hale in the sea of yellow, but she could feel that Edward was around somewhere, so she relaxed and enjoyed the sun and the joviality.

They were paraded into the gymnasium and instructed to line up in the alphabetic way they had rehearsed the day before. She was next to Jessica, and even though they had never really gotten along, there was something about graduating that made them smile and share memories with each other.

Jessica's gaze wandered after a couple minutes, and then Bella felt strong arms around her middle. She sighed and relaxed into the warm chest.

"Hi," he whispered in her hair, messing up the hat on her head.

"Where have you been?" she asked, turning in Edward's arms to gaze up at him.

"Alice," he said by way of explanation. "I've been following her around for the past half an hour… don't ask. Sorry I made you worry. Hi, Jessica."

Jessica blushed magenta, ducked her head and mumbled a hello. Edward and Bella's relationship was always kept private, so of course, it was always at the forefront of gossip. Jessica, being the queen of gossip, always talked out of both sides of her mouth.

"Hi," said Jessica, and then turned away.

"Go get in line," urged Bella, kissing Edward on the lips in front of everyone. He ducked down for another, and she laughed and shoved him. "Later, Casanova."

"Don't trip," he warned her, and she groaned.

But she didn't trip. She made it all the way across, grinning when she heard Jacob and Charlie and Billy and all the Quileute boys going nuts. She heard Jasper and Jane catcall, and Alice's cheers. She felt Edward's quiet smile, and that same smile was on his face later that evening, after graduation dinner. They spent a quiet night with each other, laughing and loving, and when the sun greeted them the next morning, Bella was high off an orgasm, and Edward was still between her thighs, resting his stubbly cheek against her skin.

She ran her hands through his hair and felt his warm breath against her skin. They had been together for almost a year now, save for the three weeks they had been apart, and their silences were not golden. They were clear, void of anything heavy, anything too bright – they were just that: silent, quiet, reverent, awed, and loved.

He moved, and she smiled down at him. "Getting uncomfortable down there?"

He slowly stretched and gave her a sleepy grin. "Never. Just afraid of falling asleep with a crick in my neck."

She looked up at him, naked and nestled in his thick cotton sheets. Her hair was everywhere, and the white cotton was barely covering her skin. He looked down at her and winked, and then everything went still.

He looked like a deer caught in headlights. His verdant eyes went wide, and his hands clenched in rough fists. "Oh god."

"What? Edward?" She moved to get up, but he shot out a hand and put her back down.

"Don't move. Stay exactly… stay right… don't move."

"Edward, you're scaring me." But she stayed where she was, powerless to resist a command from him.

"It's okay… Bella, it's okay. I just… I need… god, where's my paint?"

"Your paint," she repeated.

"My brush, and my paint, oh god, where is it?"

"Right where it always is – why do you need it?"

He turned to her, and his eyes were wild. He climbed on top of her and kissed her, fisting her hair and melting into her skin. "You'll be all right, Bella. Won't you? You'll be all right. You won't leave me."

"I'll never leave you," she whispered back, clutching at him. "Edward, you know that. I love you. I adore you. What is this about?"

"You love me," he whispered, not a question.

"I love you, Edward."

"God, Bella…" He kissed her again, searing her mouth with his. "I love you. I worship you. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes… yes, Edward, I know that. God, what are you doing?"

"You're perfect. God, you're so fucking beautiful, Bella. Just don't move. The light – it's perfect. You're perfect. Oh god."

That's when it hit her – he was going to paint her.

After their break up in September, Bella had never mentioned paintings involving herself again. She knew what it felt like to lose Edward, and that fear consumed her every day until she felt confident in their relationship again. She couldn't imagine how it overtook him every single time he picked up a brush and wanted to direct it towards someone he loved.

Edward had told Bella a few months prior that his therapist, Irina, had been giving him small homework assignments – painting little things and working him up to more important objects. Soon, she had turned him to painting animals. She had him paint a bird that sat in her office every day, and although he shook the entire time, that bird lived, and was still alive to this day.

Bella was unsure about the exercises that followed, because it was rare that Edward wanted to voice exactly what happened in his hour-long sessions. But Bella didn't mind – that growth was something personal to Edward.

But she never dreamed in a million years he would find the strength, the willpower to paint her.

He came back into the room, paints and brushes stuffed into his mouth and a canvas underneath his arm. She watched him work – he was mouthing something to himself, silently, behind a wall of ash grey confusion. When he was all set up, he turned to her.

"Bella…" Then he crawled on top of her and kissed her, again, feeling her, soaking in her warmth and light and dear god, please, please let this work. "I want you to know – you have to know this. I am… p-p-painting you out of reverence, out of my adoration for you. I love you. I'm in love with you. You walked into my life – you made this past year the happiest I've ever… if something happens to you, Bella, I'm coming with you."

"Edward, don't be ridiculous – "

"I'm coming with you. I've decided that. I don't know if this is some fatalistic jump into oblivion with you, or if this is going to start our new life together… a life where I don't have to worry. But either way, I get you."

Bella started crying. "Edward, don't… stop, no – don't paint me, I can't – "

"Lay there," he told her, and then kissed her. "Lay there, and be beautiful, and let me paint you. You've told me time and again that everything will be all right. I'm ready – I want to see that…."

So she did. Her face was bright pink, still flushed from her orgasm and the excitement Edward had caused her by talking about painting. Her eyes were rimmed with red from her tears, and she was certain her heart was making indentions against her chest.

He sketched first, his lips between his teeth, looking back and forth between her and the canvas. He was still naked, and she was shocked at the erection that was up against his stomach. She wanted to ask him about it, because Bella wasn't that scantily clad – a sheet covered all of her naughty bits – but she didn't know if this was an Edward she could tease. He was so sexy, so beautiful, his full concentration on the lines of her body, and she could feel the stirring of her arousal underneath the white cotton.

He stopped with the sketch, and then without a word, went over to her, parted her legs, and used his tongue where she needed him most.

And that was the pattern over the next several hours. They only moved to eat or use the facilities. Edward would paint her, Bella would lie there, and then when he was overcome, he would go down on her, to get her smell, her taste all over him. It would ground him, center him, and allow him to continue.

It was nearing eight PM when he finally dropped his paintbrush. He fell to his knees, staggered, his eyes the color of a lackluster emerald.

Bella scrambled up. "Edward." She reached for him – his skin was tepid. He allowed her to pull him up into her arms, and he fell against her body, all of his weight, holding her down.

Then it was like an exorcism – everything in his body tensed, and when it relaxed, the tears came. They were harsh, ragged, punishing black sky against her ear, cheek, neck. But she held him so fiercely, so tightly, letting her white-hot passion and her never-fading red love for this man anchor them to the bed.

**Three Months Later**

Bella walked up the steps to the second floor of Edward's apartment building. It was September, and the first weekend she was able to sneak away from UW. Jane was busy with her boyfriend and practically shooed Bella out of their small apartment, so she went, laughing.

And now she was here, and she could hear Edward banging around inside. He was decorating his new place, right near the harbor. She knocked on the door – he wasn't expecting her.

He greeted her with a surprised shout and a giant hug, and oh, how she missed him when he wasn't near. He smelled so good, and she loved him so much – the strong man he had become, and the traces of the troubled boy she could still see in his eyes.

"Come in, sweet girl – you surprised the shit out of me…" He took her hand and walked her in, and gave her a small little tour.

They had a beautiful summer together. After painting her, Edward had held onto her for hours, shaking and crying at random intervals. It was like he was waiting for a certain time to pass. He had explained it to her later – all the deaths that had occurred at his hand were practically instantaneous. Two hours, three hours passed, and still Bella breathed in his arms, and it was like something was lifted off of him. The next day, and all the days after that, his smile always reached his eyes.

Bella wasn't arrogant enough to proclaim him as "cured." Could you ever be cured from such awful coincidences? But he did start to learn to cope with the fact that they were just that… awful, terrible coincidences.

"Here, let me show you something… I need your opinion on where to hang this."

Bella's heart quickened. He had never shown her the painting he had done of her, and she was fairly certain he was about to.

And she was right. Oh, god.

She couldn't even concentrate on herself in the painting. She was there, covered in the white sheet, with the wide eyes, staring out into nothing. Her hair was a mess, and she had a small smile playing on her lips. But Edward… Edward had painted himself into it. He was hovering over her, staring down at her like she was the most precious thing in the world to him.

"Is that how you look at me when I'm not looking?" she whispered, moving forward to the canvas propped against the wall.

"Like how?" he whispered, following her, kissing every inch of skin he could reach.

"Like… your soul – it's just, I can see it. Your heart, how you feel, all of it is just…"

Then she reached for the paintbrush that was lying on the table, still wet with paint he had been using earlier. She drew across it the word that completed her thought, right over the place Edward's heart would be in the painting.

_Bare._

* * *

I have posted the first chapter of my new fic, Bad Fauxmance. It's going to be very, very different from Bare. Here is a summary:

_I, Edward Cullen lose a bet - what bet, you ask? God, does it even matter? I lose a bet, and now I'm here, in this gay club, with this huge guy grinding on me. There are perfect girls everywhere, enjoying the freedom of dancing without wandering male eyes, unaware of my gaze following the sway of their tits. Little do I know that the big guy grinding on me will become my gaytor, or so he calls himself - my gay tutor. Because I, Edward Cullen, will have to pretend to be gay to keep the man-hating Bella Swan in my life, as my roommate, my best friend, and the girl I fall in love with._

I hope you go check it out! Expect the Bare epilogue within the next month.

Always,

Stella


	26. Epilogue: Hand Over Your Heart

Here it is - the epilogue that took way too long for how short is. I confess, it has been hard for me to let go.

I have so many people to thank, and so much love to give - all of you who have ever even thought a nice word about this story, this is for you. It doesn't matter if you've favorited me, or alerted, or reviewed. If you read my words, you own me, and it's for you - yes, you.

Thanks to my beta, Ali. I'm sure she'll beat herself up for not betaing this one last time. That's what you get for sleeping, little girl.

**Keep Bare on your alerts **because I will be writing outtakes. :)

As ever -** pinkeveningsky** is my twitter. I accept everyone who isn't a porn bot. And there are exceptions to every rule.

**Disclaimer:** For the final time, it's not mine.

* * *

**Hand Over Your Heart**

Butter yellow sunlight crept its way across the wood flooring. It hit furniture – a desk, two chests of drawers, and a bed, wide and stark white. It expanded across the sheets, hitting bare feet, twisted cotton and smooth backs. It put red in hair and bronze on skin, and lines in the corner of eyes as they squinted against its insistence.

"Bella…"

His voice was warmer than the June rays, and she smiled into her pillow as she rolled over and tried to ignore it. He dug two fingers against her naked ribs, and she giggled and squirmed and batted his hand away.

"It's my birthday," he reminded her, dipping his head down so his nose ran along her shoulder blade. "And for my first wish, I want Bella to wake up now…"

She shook her head and drew the covers over her head. "It's so early," she whispered against the linens.

He followed her under, kissing her thigh, stomach, the plane of her chest. He was always so gentle in the mornings – she always thought of it as almost a religious service, a quiet reverence for their love.

"Happy birthday," she said, once his kiss finished with her lips. "Finally twenty-one."

He murmured ascent against her neck. "I have to get to work."

Bella groaned and grabbed at his hair. "No. Stay right here. Birthday boys get the day off."

He kissed her again, hearing her words. They both knew it was useless – Edward was the hardest worker she had ever known, and ever since Esme and Edward had joined hands in business a year ago, he had yet to see a day off.

"I'll see you at dinner," he told her before rolling out from under the sheets. She watched his bare behind walk towards their bathroom, and then she slumped back under the warm covers for a few more hours of sleep.

XxXxX

"You did not just write 'fucking' four times in that card," Bella said in disbelief, peering over Jane's shoulder as she scribbled a note into Edward's card.

"What's wrong with that?" Jane protested.

"It's foul," Liam stated, swatting his girlfriend's behind. "Besides, Cullen is sensitive."

Bella rolled her eyes and picked up the card. "Dear Edward, happy fucking birthday. Can you believe you're finally twenty-fucking-one? I fucking can't. Have a great day. I fucking love you." Bella shook the card in Jane's face. "Even for you, this is crude."

Jane shrugged. "That's the point. I'm rolling out the big guns. He only turns twenty-one once, you know."

"Okay," Bella relented, throwing up her hands. "Whatever you want, Jane."

"Can I get that in writing?"

Bella was thankfully able to ignore that, because the door opened and in spilled Jasper, Alice, Rosalie, Emmett, and their two children.

High-pitched shrieks resounded throughout Bella and Edward's small apartment as the family came together again. They hugged and tickled and high-fived and laughed, and then they all went back to work immediately, fixing up the living room for Edward's return.

Bella moved to the kitchen, dodging Grace, Rosalie and Emmett's three-year-old daughter. She made sure everything was simmering and warming at the appropriate temperature, and then moved to their bedroom.

She still hadn't written out the card to him, and he was due home in fifteen minutes. She plucked a pen out of the cup on their desk, and sat down to do what she loved the most – write.

_Edward,_

_As if I could sum up everything you mean to me in this tiny little card. The past four years with you have been the best of my life, and my goal is to one day be able to leave the card blank, and you'll still know exactly how happy I am with you and our life together. I don't want to have to sum it all up each year in a card I bought from the drugstore. I want you to see it in my eyes, every day when I wake up, and every night when I go to sleep. _

_When I finally sell my manuscript, you'll be the first person I thank in the front portion. I can't wait to let the whole world know that you're the reason the words work. _

_I love you,_

_Bella._

A door opened and shut as she was stuffing the card in the envelope. 'Surprise' was shouted, and Bella cursed for missing it. She lunged out of their room, arranging her hair.

Edward stood in the doorway, receiving hugs from various family members and friends. His smile didn't relax until their eyes locked – the green growth to the bonded brown. It rooted them there, and she never wanted to look anywhere else.

"Happy birthday," she told him as she received his kiss and a hug.

"It is," he agreed. "And it's not over with yet, sweet girl." He kissed her again, and ran his oil-worn hands over her bare arms. "Come with me for just a second."

"All of these guests! Edward, we can't…"

He laughed and pinched her cheek. "Not _that_, Bella. Although…"

Ten mysterious minutes later, they reemerged from their bedroom. Alice, who always had an eye for those things, stared at both of them beadily.

"Bella, have you been crying?"

Edward raised Bella's left hand. "It's my party, and she can cry if she wants to."

In the fluorescent light, a diamond sparkled from her finger. It caught all the colors of the rainbow in its fragments, and it reflected the colors that meant the most – those of joy written all over their faces.

THE END.

* * *

Let the credits roll. This is going to be superfluous, so don't feel obligated to read. I'm just giving credit to the chapter titles I used - they're all from songs, and I've yet to name them.

They're Not Listening, Anyway: **Acoustic #3 - Goo Goo Dolls**  
The Bad Boys Standing In The Shadows: **Free Falling - Tom Petty**  
Inside Your Precious Heart: **Epiphany - Staind**  
Picking Up Trash In Dresses: **Beautiful Mess - Jason Mraz**  
A Hurricane of Warmth and Word: **Passage -** **Vienna Teng**  
It's Guts That Matter Most: **All Over You - The Spill Canvas**  
Magic and Myth: **Beautiful Disaster - Kelly Clarkson**  
Someone To Take Her Home: **Beautiful Disaster - Jon McLaughlin**  
The Tragedies of Chemistry: **You're the Reason I Come Home - Ron Pope**  
A Three-Fold Utopian Dream: **I Miss You - Incubus**  
Consumed With What's To Transpire: **Sex on Fire - Kings of Leon**  
The Girl Who Came To Stay: **Girl - The Beatles**  
With the Moon I Run: **Closer - Kings of Leon**  
The Taste of Ink: **The Taste of Ink - The Used**  
Color All My Dreams: **I'll Be Your Lover, Too - Van Morrison**  
Painting Your Curves In My Hand: **I can't remember - as soon as I do, I'll edit. oops. **  
Burning Like A Bridge: **Tautou - Brand New**  
The Scarlet In Your Day: **Scarlet - Brooke Fraser**  
An Angel Opens Her Eyes: **Lightning Crashes - Live**  
A Dream That Keeps Waking Me: **Edge of Desire - John Mayer**  
A Cold and Broken Hallelujah: **Hallelujah - Leonard Cohen**  
She Will Be Loved: **She Will Be Loved - Maroon 5**  
The Color Of Your Soul: **Without You Here - Goo Goo Dolls**  
Hand Over Your Heart: **Cold Desert - Kings of Leon **


	27. Outtake 1

Here is Bare outtake number one (not sure how many I'll do). The origin is the quote down below, taken from chapter 24 of Bare.

I hope you enjoy this revisit to Paintward and his world. I know I did. :)

**Disclaimer**: STILL not mine. Yeesh.

* * *

"_He started on a cocktail of medications that they are still adjusting, so sometimes he is groggy and moody. Sometimes all he wants to do is lay in my lap, and sometimes all he wants is me bare and underneath him. Sometimes he sleeps the full night, his deep breaths dampening my skin, and sometimes I wake up (as does the whole house) to the sound of a banging, angry piano or an easel flying across the room."_

When Bella woke up, it was still dark. Something was off about the air – it was thicker, almost, with a heady sort of perfume that tinged the night with dark purple sweetness.

She blinked her eyes open and was met with malachite stones, staring up at her from between her legs. His hair was a spark between her thighs, and all of a sudden, all of her senses that had been turned off during sleep came crashing back in one loud gasp.

"Oh god," she ground out, her fingers suddenly clamping down into the red hot licks of hair grazing her pubic bone.

"I was thirsty," he told her, and then took a long lick of her.

She laughed – it was cheesy, but she was too turned on to care. "You could have… j-just aaaaaahhha… asked, um, asked for – "

"Quiet, Bella."

"Okay," she relented. She closed her eyes, swallowing thickly as she imagined his bubblegum tongue and all that she felt it doing to her.

He continued on for a few minutes and when Bella came, she grabbed onto Edward's hair to force him up. They kissed, sloppy and wet, and he positioned himself against her so quickly that he slid in her aftermath and missed a couple times. His head bumped against her oversensitive clit and she kind of laughed into his mouth until his aim was finally true.

He seemed to turn into a machine after that, and she watched his face never watch hers. He had been like this the past couple of days, the new medicine in his system making him strange and intense and almost mean in ways that he had never been before.

She couldn't even concentrate on how good he felt – how good he always felt – because if she wanted mechanical sex she could go find it somewhere else. But she wanted _him,_ the laughing, playful, beautifully intense man she was with, not this cowboy that was breaking in a new horse.

"Hey," she called suddenly. He made no response but to thrust harder, and she grimaced – it almost hurt. _"Hey,"_ she demanded, kicking him in the ass hard with her heel.

"What?" His movements slowed. "What's wrong?"

"Get _off,"_ she insisted, shoving him.

He shook his head and rolled over, landing on his back next to her. "What did I do? What's wrong? Are you crying?"

She shook her head and drew the covers up to her chin. She tried to calm down before speaking, but every time she drew a breath, her sobs became louder.

"Did I hurt you? Bella, sweet girl, please talk to me – you're scaring me to death."

"_Yes, you hurt me,"_ she hissed, wrenching the covers up over her face. She didn't want to look at him and see the wide-eyed innocence in his expression. It was almost worse that he had no idea what he was doing. "I'm not just your… your… _blow up doll,_ Edward."

He tried to take the covers away from her face, but she held firm. "I know you're not," he said quietly, but he sounded unsure. "I didn't mean to be so rough. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It didn't hurt physically," she said against the white cotton sheets draped across her face. "I just – don't – I don't want to have sex with you until you get your medication worked out."

"Excuse me?"

That was apparently the wrong thing to say. She didn't have to look at him to sense the way his face iced over, frosty iron blue in his anger.

"Never mind," she said tiredly, her throbbing groin intensifying as she crossed her legs to get out of bed. "I'm going to go clean off. I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, Edward."

She used the restroom and then washed her face with harsh Dial soap, trying to clean the tracks of mascara off of her cheeks. When she made her way back into his room, he was not in there. She sighed, knowing where he was, but deciding not to bother him. She was tired and just wanted to get back to sleep.

It wasn't an hour later when she was awakened by a loud crash that startled her so badly she was standing before she was even completely awake. She threw on her t-shirt and pajama pants and darted down the hall, Alice on her heels.

Bella threw open the door to his studio, and a piano bench was broken, laying haphazardly against the floor. She remembered that day that he had come out with the broken bench to show Esme, but she had never gotten down to the bottom of how they ended up that way.

Now she knew.

He _threw_ them.

He didn't even seem to hear them as he picked up his easel and threw it with the ease of a body builder against the wall. It landed next to the piano bench, crumpled. He picked up canisters of paint and she watched as those ended up against slathered against the walls, a violent rainbow.

"Stop," she heard herself say. "Stop!"

She moved forward, but felt a warm hand on her arm. Carlisle and Esme were behind her, watching. She hadn't even heard them.

"He's not in his right mind," Carlisle told her. "He wouldn't hurt you purposely. But it would make it even worse if he hurt you accidentally."

She waved him off and walked into the room. She put a hand on his back as he was about to launch a container of red paint. He slumped immediately.

"Stop," she said again, pressing her lips into his shoulder blade. "Stop it, Edward."

She pulled him into her arms and listened as three pairs of feet walked away. She rocked him back and forth and he clung to her like he was drowning.

"I feel," he whispered after a moment, "that I'm not quite myself today."

She laughed against his chest, and then drew back to look into his face. "We'll figure it out," she told him firmly, holding his cheeks in her palms.

"No, Bella – there's no excuse. I'm so sorry – I didn't mean to be so rough, or… or detached – I just, when we're together like that, it's still the only time when I don't feel this complete cacophony of emotions, and so I stay trapped in that, instead of focusing on you, like I should. Bella, stop telling me it's okay – it isn't. You can forgive me, but it's not okay."

She shook her head. "Let's go back to bed. I'll help you clean this up in the morning – "

He swept her up in a dizzying kiss, and she fell against his body, more in love than ever.

"We'll figure it out," she repeated. "All days can't be perfect, can they?"

He shook his head at her. "I guess not. But, Bella – every day that isn't perfect… the days that are grey and dark… those days will always have a bright underlining. They will always have yellow."


	28. Outtake 2 EPOV 1

**I've written a series of Bare outtakes from Edward's point of view. There is the main outtake, Bound, that has its own story on my profile page. However, these are just short little snippets. I don't know how many there will be, but since people seem to be so fond of EPOV (especially since this is really Bella's story), I've decided to let you in to his head a little more. :)**

**Drop me a line and let me know what you want to see from his POV!**

**For now, this is Paintward outtake 1 - when he sees Bella for the first time. Enjoy. :)**

**xXxXx**

Edward looked up from his sketch as Alice dropped down beside him. He smiled at her briefly, the reds in her outfit making her look like some sort of devil in disguise. His stepbrother, Jasper, sat down on the other side of him, and he and Alice engaged in a quiet conversation, a strange contrast to the shouting inside the cafeteria.

A kid younger than Edward passed the table, hissing to his friend as the lunchroom door opened. "That's _her!"_

Edward glanced up out of curiosity. A fragile little girl with eyes too big for her face and hair too long for her frame stumbled into the cafeteria. She was really quite plain, and his artist's eye didn't register much more than that before his eyes shifted back down to his paper.

"That's the Chief of Police's daughter," Alice told them as Rosalie and Emmett filled up the rest of the seats. "Bella Swan. She's really nice, the poor girl."

Rosalie glanced up, nodding slightly. "Pretty hair."

"Alice told me she rescued her this morning," Jasper said finally, talking to Edward mostly. Probably because Edward was the least interested in staring down the new girl. "From the pole in front of the office."

"It's not _funny,_ Jasper," Alice scolded. "She could have broken her nose. I saw her last period; it's all swollen. Imagine_ that _on your first day!"

Edward didn't say a word. Gossip was neutral to him – not even _white,_ he supposed, because white could be added to anything to make it lighter, prettier. It was neutral, the color of air, something others needed to survive, and something he didn't think twice about, really. It wasn't that he believed talking about others was below him, but he just didn't _care._

A new girl who was too silly to watch where she was going? So what? Did she have interesting colors – ivories and peaches and roses and cream? Something he could create and keep the same? And even so, did she have some sort of curse repellant on her? If not, she wasn't his type. No one was ever his type. No one could love his heart and live through his art.

"Edward," Alice whispered, when everyone one else had moved on. "She's a really beautiful girl."

"No," he said, looking up at Alice. "Forget it."

"You haven't even looked at her."

Edward mustered all the disgust he could in one look. Then, he made an exaggerated point to turn around and stare, bold-faced, at the girl. Yes, she was pretty. Yes, she had a cute, upturned nose and long eyelashes he could see from his seat. And she had –

Big, brown eyes that stared all the way down to the fleshy, bubbling, pink center of him, and was he breathing and living and dying and becoming something new? He gripped the table hard, harder than he had ever – look at her, she's – she's symmetrical but not boring and beautiful but not typical and if only he could take a brush and take the colors off her face and put them into his palate to paint with forever and ever and ever –

He turned back to Alice, and he felt simultaneously hot and cold.

"Do it," she whispered.

No, he said inside himself._ No. _

"Edward, she's perfect – "

"I said _no,_ Alice, and that's _final!"_ It was loud, too loud, harsh, orange, wild. He couldn't help it, but everything inside him burst up at the thought of harming her with his gift and his curse. He glared across the table at Alice, his fists against the surface, his tray vibrating from the fall.

Jasper stood up and said something calmly to Edward, something he couldn't hear beyond the red-hot anger boiling somewhere behind his ears. He whirled around and his eyes connected with _hers_, and he _hated_ her.

He would do _anything_ he could to keep her away from him. For her own good, and for his, just in case one day he decided he didn't actually hate her after all.


End file.
